


Same Old Love

by CannibalKats



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Dead girlfriend, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Hyun Ryu had been an up and comer in the musical scene until his girlfriend had been killed in a motorcycle accident, Saeran Choi had been child prodigy, composing musicals by age 9 who fell off the scene when he cut ties with his mother.Together they could be something again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After this chapter things should be a lot fluffier.

Hyun blinks into the dimly lit bar, a stark contrast to the bright midday sun just outside the heavy door.  He reaches for the mask he wears more to cover his face than anything else but then changes his mind.  He doesn’t pull his ponytail out of his jacket either.

Not that anyone would recognize him anymore anyway.  It had been more than a year since he’d been cast in anything, almost two since it had been anything with any real weight.  He doesn’t expect to hear back about this latest audition either.  Casting agents, producers, directors, they all loved to call him.  

Loved to shake his hand and ask for his autograph like it was still worth something.  They liked to ask him to read, could he sing that song from that show.  They didn’t want to hire him.  Didn’t like the stigma.  He might have been on his way up but she’d already been there and as far as anyone in the industry was concerned he’d killed her.

Not the guy who hadn’t been paying attention and rear-ended his bike at a stop sign.  No it was him. Choi Kyungju had been the top and when she’d been alive she was the saint and he was the bad boy.  An ex gang member she’d charmed away from the dark.

Now he was just the hoodlum who killed her.  A traveling sideshow.  A dancing monkey who was desperate enough for work he still showed up to bullshit auditions.

“Kim Yoosung if you improvise before the bridge one more fucking time I will walk on stage and skull fuck you to your own fucking beat.”

Hyun can see the band on the stage, still setting up.  He can’t see the source of the threat just the drummer with the pastel blue undercut who looks a little more than scared.  He recognizes the tone of voice, a creator with a vision.  Not that you usually find that in a cover band.   _ Singer _ , Hyun figures, but then a petite woman with dark hair and bright eyes runs fingers through the drummer's hair, kisses him on the cheek and says something about a mic check.

The whole scene makes his heart hurt.  If he squints, or maybe drinks fast enough, the girl in the ripped jeans and too big tshirt could be Kyungju.  An Idol before she broke into the musical scene, she’d been unstoppable.  Until very suddenly she’d been stopped.

He can hear the rough tone of the unseen man threatening the other band members from somewhere off stage.  

“No-one’s here,” she says into the mic.  “Come on, for old times, stop threatening my fiance and relax.”

Hyun likes this bar, the music is never the same. There’s a piano in the corner and when they don’t have live music sometimes he gets drunk and sings for tips.  He can hear a man growl but the girl smiles.  A smallish man in soft pink cardigan and a black choker glares at her as he steps up to the piano.  Physically he’s as non-threatening as a person could be.

Hyun watches him slip behind the keys, he watches the boy at the drums roll his eyes and the man strikes a chord, the girl starts singing and Hyun realizes that he’s still standing in the shadows.  Lost in thought he’d been lurking in the doorway watching them.  Still the way the man at the piano seems to relax as he plays is almost comforting.  

His voice joins the girls and Hyun recognizes the song they’re singing from the radio.  

The bartender recognizes him as he makes his way to the bar, already has a pint waiting for him.  The girl singing makes eye contact with him and flashes him a smile that makes his chest hurt. He watches as the tone of the song shifts, the man at the  piano smiling over his shoulder at the woman as he sings.  He watches  _ them. _

They’ve done this a hundred times, he thinks, performed together.  He remembers the way it had felt on stage, not just alone but with _ her _ , being able to sing to her.  Whether the song was felt real or been total fiction, they’d played off one another well.  He lifts the pint to his lips and drinks deeply.  When he glances back at the stage, the rest of the band is setting up, and the man at the piano is staring at him.

He glances away quickly, fiddles with the mask around his neck and downs the rest of his beer.  He’s on his fourth or fifth pint when the band starts to actually play, some combination of adapted american and korean pop songs.  They’re not bad he decides, not for a cover band.  They have their own thing going and the singer has a voice bigger than her small frame.  

The tightness in his chest listening to her is more nostalgia than sadness.  He wonders if she was a fan of Kyungju when she was known as Echo Girl.  They don’t sound so similar with the music she sings now but the energy is the same.

He motions to the bartender and doesn’t even have to ask, it’s routine now as the glass of cheap whiskey is set in front of him.

The man is still here.  Standing near the band leaning against the half wall that surrounds the dancefloor.  Hyun can see the earbuds that stick out of one ear, as if he’s here for the band but he doesn’t actually want to hear them.  Hyun can relate he decides.  There had been plenty of times he’d rehearsed a song so many times that he was sick of it.  

He’s been caught looking at the small man in the pink sweater at least three times since he’d stepped away from the piano.  At first he tells himself he’s just trying to figure him out.  His hair is a little shaggy, kind of curly.  It looks soft like spun sugar and he suspects it’s the soft purple colour that lends to that imagery. 

That had been the first time he’d been caught staring, trying to decide if that was a natural colour, a natural curl.

The next time the man had approached the bar, hadn’t waited for the bartender just slipped under the hinged portion of the counter and made his own drink.  No one said anything, and Hyun had watched him nod at the bartender and tuck 20,000 won in the tip jar.  When he emerged from under the door the lights over the bar had surged and Hyun has noticed the collared shirt he was wearing under the pink cardigan was sheer.  He was finely muscled despite his narrow frame and delicate clothing.  He’d smirked when he caught Hyun looking.

The last time had been on his way to the bathroom, the lights above the stage had flashed and Hyun had noticed the play of light as the man ran his hands through his hair.  He counted the earrings on his way by,  _ eight _ he thinks, in that one ear.  One long hammered silver earring dangles the length of the man’s slender neck, a little jewel  on the end twinkling in the lights.

The man had pretended not to notice him looking as he passed him on the way to the toilets, but Hyun could tell by his body language he had.  The way his back had stiffened and his shoulders had squared. Hyun had pretended he hadn’t been listing slightly to the left whenever he glanced his way, pretended that he wasn’t swaying on his feet when he stopped in the line.

Hyun doesn’t lie to himself anymore, not since Kyungju had died and moving on had gotten so difficult.  Sure he still took women home, or rather let them take him home since his place was usually a mess.  That’s what had lost him first the support of Kyungju’s fans and then when he’d made the mistake of sleeping with a few of the girls from his fan club, girls who’d taken his photo and posted it online, he’d lost his agent.  Men had been more subtle and he’d always been curious.

At least when he went home with men he didn’t risk calling them the wrong name, if he cried with his face buried in the mattress, well no one but him really knew.

“You’re not a serial killer right?”

Hyun starts, he’d been staring into his fourth whiskey, or maybe his fifth, he hadn’t noticed the man move but here he was.  Intense green eyes frown at him from under dark brows, Hyun can see the freckles dusting his nose.  He’d never have been caught staring if this guy hadn’t been looking back.

He shakes his head dumbly.

“Because you’ve been fucking staring at me all night.”

He tries to come up with something charming, something witty.  This guy might be rude, he might be the kind of asshole Hyun hated working for but there was something in the way he spoke, and Hyun thinks maybe if he can get him out of here quick enough?  Well he hopes he carries that aggression into other things.  

So he opens his mouth, wants to use one of those cheesy pick up lines he’d been so famous for.  Maybe acknowledge the fact that he’d been staring.  _ I’m glad I brought my library card because I’m checking you out _ maybe.  It’s stupid but it used to get a laugh, a good pun was an ice breaker.  Or maybe he’d just wax poetic about this guy’s beauty, he looked like maybe he’d be into that.

But what comes out it a slurred, “S’just you’re really pretty.”

Doesn’t really have the same effect, but the guy blushes despite the way his eyes narrow and his lip curls into a sneer.

“Can I’buy you a drink?” He tries.

The man’s face relaxes a bit and he chuckles. “I’m with the band, my drinks are comp’ed.”

Hyun nods.  Rests his elbow on the bar and sets his head heavily on his hand and the man smiles a little wider, laughs a little fuller.

When he wakes up he’s not sure where he is.  His contacts feel dry in his eyes and he has to push at them a little to get them to sit right.  In the blur of his dry off center contacts he forgets for a minute. It’s just a bad dream.  This bed is so soft, the blankets plush and warm and they smell more like fabric softener than body odour.

The hangover pounds behind his eyes but he knows it will be short lived.

As his eyes start to focus on the room he remembers the cute but aggressive man from the night before.  He must have gone home with him, but there’s nothing to really support that. No aches, he doesn’t feel the stings of scratches, none of the things he’s used to associating with his walk of shame.  Maybe the last two years were just a really terrible dream.

He can even smell food somewhere.  Maybe he’s at Kyungju’s apartment, she’ll walk through the door any time now and tell him he has to get up. Scold him for drinking so much and tell him that he’d insulted her father again.  There’s a bottle of water next to the bed, he cracks it and chugs.  He feels like he’d tried to swallow the dessert.

No one opens the door, no one scolds him or tells him to get up.  His phone is next to the water, battery dead.  His jacket is hanging off the bedpost, his shoes are neatly under a chair and he’s still wearing the clothes he’d worn to his audition.  The only thing out of the ordinary, besides waking up in a strange bed, is that his hair is braided.

He can hear music from somewhere, the rhythmic sound of feet and soft voices.  He follows the sound, bottle of water clutched in his hand, headache already easing thanks to whatever caused him to heal so much quicker than others.  Was he just supposed to leave?  Was he supposed to wait, or maybe-

“Oh!” A door clicks and the drummer from the band rubs nervously at the back of his neck. “You’re uh, you woke up.”

He nods.  “I uh-”

“Are you ok?  Geeze I can’t believe you’re not- Wait do you, the bathroom is, I just  do you-”

He reaches out and covers the blue haired kids mouth.  Drummers always made so much noise.

“I’m fine,” he croaks.

Purple eyes go wide and the kid nods.

“That’s the bathroom?” He asks.

“Yeah, I can let Saeran know you’re awake.”

Hyun shrugs.  He steps into the bathroom, shuts and locks the door.  It’s not huge, nothing in this place had been.  The bedroom had been moderately sized, the furniture had all seemed decent quality but not extravagant, and he was fairly sure he was in a house and not an apartment.

Why had this guy brought him home if it hadn’t been to fuck him.  Maybe he wanted to blackmail him.  Nothing really implied the guy needed money but maybe that was the point.  He snorts and splashes cold water on his face.  Doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, not anymore.  

He doesn’t want to see the bags under his eyes.

When he opens the door, the drummer and the singer are disappearing around a corner and talking in hushed whispers.  The woman smiles over her shoulder when she hears the door click and points to somewhere behind him.

He follows the sound of the music.  It’s nothing he recognizes, something bubblegum. The sound of hands crashing down on the keyboard makes him freeze.  Voices raise, not in an argument but obviously he is overhearing two very frustrated people.

“You said it was done,” a woman whines.

“It is,” a familiar voice insists.

“I have an audition in two days,” she says.

“You’re inability to properly perform the transition is not my problem, you asked me to compose you something I did.  Whatever your issue is tell whoever is accompanying you, it’s not my fucking problem.”

“You  _ promised _ ,” she whines.

“No, Saeyoung promised, it’s not the same thing.”

Hyun finds himself in the doorway of a music room, the familiar dampening panels on the wall, a small piano on one end, shelves of sheet music and tools, a wall of instruments.  He must make some impressed sound because both the people in the room turn to him.  The one he thinks might be called Saeran is sitting behind the piano, big round glasses perched on his nose and gold eyes Hyun swore had been green the night before narrow on him.  

The girl isn’t familiar aside from the fact that she’s obviously related to the singer from the night before. Both of them are wearing oversized sweaters, hers a light grey and his a soft pink.  His hair is pinned to the top of his head and hers is braided over one shoulder.

“So  _ this _ is the pet Jisu meant,” the woman smirks, looking him over.  “I thought she meant you finally got a cat, he looks a bit old.”

Hyun can feel that small part of the old him, the man with the fan club who took selfies at every opportunity bristle.  The man he is now doesn’t care.

“He’s not old,” The other man says, “just  _ used _ .”

Hyun want’s to be mad but all he can feel is relieved that at least someone is talking about him where he can hear.  

The woman rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“We’re done Sari,” he says standing.

“Mmhm,” she smirks.

“That means you go home,” he growls.

“Yeah, fine.”

She gives him one more appraising look and rolls her eyes before she saunters past him.

Hyun stands in the doorway while the man watches him and when they hear, what Hyun assumes to be, the front door slam the man in front of him stands up.  He steps around the piano and holds out a hand.  One overlarge sleeve of his pink hoodie threatens to slip off his wrist and Hyun thinks that despite his severe expression this man would be cute with sweater paws.

“Choi Saeran,” he nods towards his outstretched hand and Hyun takes it. “You’re Zen right?”

His eyes go wide and his head bobs in acknowledgement. “Ryu Hyun, please.”

“I heard about Kyungju I’m sorry.”

It had been almost two years but still the acknowledgement is still like a knife in his back.  It must show on his face.

Saeran covers Hyun’s hand in both of his. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles pulling his hand away.

“There’s food in the kitchen how are you feeling?” Saeran asks walking past him.

Hyun follows, stomach growling almost in response, “Uh hungry.”

Saeran glares over his shoulder at him, “ _ Really _ ?  Not queasy or-”

“M’fine, my head kind of hurts but it’s almost gone, I swear.”

Golden eyes squint suspiciously at him. “ _ If _ you barf, you have to clean it up.”

“I swear,” Hyun says hands held in supplication.

“Because you said that last night and I just paid some kid to clean whatever the fuck you ate yesterday out of my car.”

“I-uh, sorry,” he says, hanging his head.  “Guess I drank a bit too much.”

Saeran snorts, and Hyun watches him climb up on the counter to reach two giant coffee mugs on the top shelf. His cheeks are slightly pink when both feet are back on the floor and Hyun thinks he hears him mumble  _ she does that on purpose _ under his breath.

“A bit too much was where you were when you called me pretty,” Saeran snorts. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Hyun shrugs. “That I guess.”  He tries to remember what had happened afterwards, he’d offered to buy Saeran a drink maybe.  He shakes his head.

“You do that a lot,” Saeran says, it’s a statement and it makes something twist in his gut as Saeran slides the mug of coffee towards him and turns back towards the cupboard.

“Not  _ that _ often,” he mumbles defensively into his coffee mug.

“Often enough that the bartender knew where your wallet was,” Saeran points out, his voice is even. “sit down before you fall down, Hyun.” 

He lets himself slide into one of the high kitchen chairs.

“You do it often enough that the bartender lets you park your bike in the backroom, he knew the pin to your debit card, and you never had to use your words to order a drink.”  There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, his expression still slightly stern, which Hyun takes to be his neutral face.

He shrugs his shoulders, and drops his eyes to the plate set in front of him. 

Saeran doesn’t make him talk he just sits across from him and Hyun listens to the clink of a spoon against the ceramic mug, the plop of the sugar into his cup until, “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles when he’s counted four.

A fifth drops into the mug and then Saeran laughs.  His face lights up and some of the hair clipped on top of his head shakes free and falls in his face.  It’s white now, the faintest trace of purple barely visible in the mid morning light.

Zen always drank his coffee black.  He’d been broke long enough that he’d learned to get used to it.  Now he couldn’t stomach the idea of milk and sugar in his coffee but this guy had just put a quarter cup of sugar in his and was drinking it was the most normal thing anyone has ever done.  Though if Hyun had to guess that’s how Choi Saeran did most things.

“So,” Hyun drawls around the eggs in his mouth, “if I’m such a mess why’d you bring me home.”

Saeran snorts, his eyes narrow and then widen and Hyun can see the delicate streak of eyeliner that framed his lids.  The deep plum on his nails.  When he sets the mug on the table his overlarge sweater falls off one shoulder and Hyun can see the edges of a tattoo.  He lifts his hand and traces the edge of the simple velvet choker around his neck as he tilts his head to one side.  “You really don’t remember me?”

“Should I?”  Hyun wonders if he was maybe a member of his fan club, or a fan of Kyungju.  He’s certain he hadn’t gone home with this guy before, he was pretty enough he’d have remembered

Saeran gives him a long look like he can’t really decide if Hyun  _ should _ remember him. “I guess,” he starts and his voice is small for the first time.  He lets his sweater slip over his hands and pushes his glasses up his nose with sweater paws before he flips the hood up over his head. It’s cute. “Cube World,” Saeran says, watching the coffee in his mug as he swirls it around.

“You were in it?”

“I composed it,” Saeran says.

Hyun snorts, “You’re like 18, that was 10 years ago.”

“I’m 21 and I composed Cube World when I was 9, it took a year for the writers to finish the script, and another year for Mother to get it into production.”

He tries to place the show in his mind.  He remembers the songs, the hours in makeup.  It was his big break, that’s when Kyungju had first seen him perform.  He shakes his head, he remembers the director, and the conductor and the producer with the little red haired boys, not much younger than he was.  She’d been the first person to give him a chance after he’d recovered from the accident.

“Choi,” Hyun says, rolling it over his tongue, “Jaqueline Choi,” he says.

“Mother,” Saeran spits.

“So you felt sorry for me,” Hyun says. He tries, really tries, not to sound ungrateful.  It’s hard when he’s so sick of people feeling sorry for him.

“Not at first,” Saeran says, he looks almost offended. “I saw you sitting at the bar and remembered the poster of you that used to be on my wall when I was 15 years old and thought why not?  How many chances does a person get to fuck Zen?”

Hyun snorts, he feels his cheeks heat up.   _ More than there used to be, _ he thinks to himself.   The toast on his plate is suddenly very interesting.

“Even if you were a little drunk,” Saeran snorts, “thought maybe I could convince you to give it up, have you reasonably sober by the time Jisu and Yoosung were done.”

“What changed?”

“Wow, you really did that, you really got blackout drunk and puked in my car, and want me to tell you why I didn’t want to sleep with you.” Saeran laughs, like he’s not even mad, like he honestly thinks it’s funny.  “You got a phone call, when you hung up the bartender started handing you shots of something that smelled like it was brewed in a bathtub and smuggled in laundry containers.”

“You could have taken me home,” Zen says, not looking up.

“I don’t know where you live,” Saeran points out, “I know where I live though, and I have that nice spare room you woke up in.”

“I got a phone call?”

“Can I be honest with you?” Saeran asks, not as though he’s changing the subject. 

“Are you a serial killer?”  Hyun parrots the first thing Saeran had said to him.

Saeran blinks and laughs.

Hyun smirks.  It’s been so long since he had someone talked to him like he was a person.  Like he wasn’t a disappointment or a feature at a zoo.  It was nice to talk to someone who spoke to him honestly, and without pity or veiled disgust.  “Ok, be honest.”

“You look like shit,” Saeran says and holds out his hand to stop any retort he might have made. “You obviously do that  _ enough _ .  You haven’t worked in long enough that I don’t know the name of the last show you were in.  She’s dead you know?  You’re not.”

Hyun’s jaw sets. “You didn’t know her.”

“Not as well as you,” he shakes his head, “in passin.  The girls that were here earlier though, they did.”

He finds himself relaxing slightly, “They did?”

“Before you, when she was an idol the twins were a group in the same production company, it was around the time I cut ties with my mother, I wrote most of their songs. What do you know about when she was an idol?”

“Not much.” He admits. “I know the media stuff, and we used to email before we met in person?  She didn’t like to talk about it, said it was her past.”

Saeran nods. “Ok. The agency she was under as an Idol had held open auditions, she auditioned with the twins.”

“Twins?”

“The girls that were here this morning, Sari and Jisu.  Kyungju didn’t pass the audition.  Not that she wasn’t talented the agency went with the twins because,” he snorts, “being twins is a gimmick, it’s easier to sell.  Kyungju’s Father bought the agency just to give her the contract, he iced the twins out.  I wrote one song for her when Mother still held the purse strings, but when I cut ties and the agency still had a contract with me they had me write for the twins.”

Kyungju had a shaky relationship with her father, a complicated thing that he’d never really understood.  He’d been overbearing but he’d supported her.  Hyun had quietly coveted it but the few times he’d brought it up she’d gotten angry.  He knew she worked hard to establish herself in the musical industry beyond her Idol fame.  He’d respected that.

“If you can believe Sari, and that’s always questionable,” Saeran continues, “she fought for them, argued with her father a lot.  They say she didn’t want the kind of fame she had.”

Hyun nods, tries to focus on chewing his food and breathing through his nose. Some of this was new to him but other parts, “She said she only wanted to break into the industry, and make connections, musicals had always been her end game but he father wanted her to be an idol.”

Saeran nods as though it all makes sense. “When she made the jump her father dissolved the agency, a few of the acts were big enough to survive but the twins were not.”

“And you?”

Saeran’s eyes find his, like he’s not used to people asking about him. “My contract was up before then.”

The room goes quiet, nothing but the sound of the two men eating.  Hyun can’t decide exactly what is going on.  Saeran is sympathetic in one breath and  dismissive with the next.  He apologizes for bringing her up and then spends five minutes talking about the parts of her she’d wanted to forget.  The whole time he’d watched him, with the curious cat like expression in his big gold eyes.

He doesn’t want to think about her, doesn’t want to know the things she didn’t want to tell him.  He tries to inhale through his nose, but it’s shaky.  He can see Saeran trying not to notice, can feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

“So what did you want from me?” He tries to sound even but it comes out petulant.

Saeran doesn’t seem to care but he doesn’t seem to understand either.

“You didn’t bring me here to fuck me, did you bring me here to make me sadder than I already am?”  It’s not fair but as long as he lets the anger build the tears don’t threaten to be more than a shine in his eyes.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Saeran shrugs, a lazy smirk crossing his face, “fuck you that is.  It’s an option if you’re interested.”

Hyun freezes, he can feel his ears get hot.

“You don’t know about the fundraiser?” Saeran says, his eyebrows raising suddenly.  His suggestive comment forgotten.

“Fundraiser?”

“I suppose,” he muses, “yeah I guess your agent dropped you, and her Father started the rumors that you killed her, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“There’s going to be a Variety Show, a fundraiser in her memory.  They’re doing a casting call for performers that were  _ inspired _ by her or attribute some life changing bullshit to your dead girlfriend.  Sari and Jisu already have their spots, but I had a thought last night.”

Hyun waits but Saeran just sits across the table from him, smirking.

“God,  _ what _ ?”

“A year ago you did a show for my mother that tanked.  The payout barely covered the dress she bought for opening night.” Saeran’s grin turn cheshire.

“Don’t remind me.”

“I’m fucking gonna,” he chirps.  “Listen, Mother was pissed, you disappointed her twice!  The only person more disappointing that my brother used to be me but now fate has brought us together.”

“Twice?” He frowns.  He’s not sure how he could disappoint that woman twice when the first time he’d worked for her it had been a huge success.

“Well you wouldn’t sleep with her, and then you didn’t make her any money.  It was a very disappointing time for her.” Saeran chuckles.  “She thought you’d be desperate enough to be her new arm candy, then you’d pull in your usual crowd and she could take the credit for your come back.  Didn’t really figure in your, uh, well the rumors, you know?”

He nods, he was pretty intimately familiar with the rumors. “I uh, I remember the opportunity arising but I don’t, I mean Kyungju was a special case.  We’d talked so long before we met?  I don’t, I try not to have relationships with my coworkers.”

Saeran’s chuckle turns to a giggle.

Hyun crosses his arms.  The headache is almost entirely gone now.

“You wanna be on the show?” Saeran says suddenly composed.

“What?”

“I can pull some strings, I know one of the producers.”

“I don’t know,” he says.

“You keep going to auditions,” Saeran says softly, “you’re a joke, you know?  You don’t have to be but you are.  No one is going to hire you the way you look, your voice is a mess, have you looked in a mirror?”

“No.”

“You look like aged shit,” Saeran nods, he slips out of his chair and around the table. He gives Hyun’s chair a quick tug turning him to face him and presses his palms into Hyun’s thighs. “So either you’ve given up but you don’t want to admit it,” he starts with a tilt of his head, “or you’ve been fighting so long you need a break.  I can be your break.”

He frowns.  “I don’t take handouts.”

“Fuck do I look like I’m just  _ giving _ you anything?” Saeran snorts. “Because I am  _ not _ a charity organization.”

There’s a moment of silence.  Saeran with his head cocked staring into Hyun’s eyes and Hyun stares back.  The two of them stubbornly willing the other person to speak before Saeran sighs frustrated.

“Listen, if you want to be Zen again I can help you, if you want to by Ryu Hyun but better I can help you.  If you want to keep getting drunk and barfing in strangers cars I can take you back to the bar for your bike and we’ll always have Busan, but you’ve got to make a choice.”

“What choice is that, what do you get out of it?”

Saeran smirks, “Your company?  The chance to piss off my mother?” Hyun narrows his eyes and Saeran shakes his head. “Since my contract with that agency ended 3 years ago I’ve been stuck freelancing.  Fucking cat food jingles and, god it’s all just the same.  Make it sound like this popular song and whatever the fuck.  It’s killing me,” he whines and bats his eyelashes.

“So?”

“So?” he mimicks and snorts. “If I put you on that stage, sober and shining like fucking Zen again?  Singing a song I wrote?”  He smiles and waves his hand.

“Ok I get it. We both get our careers back but why would you do that for me?  Couldn’t you write something for the twins?”

“Been doing that for three years.  Jisu and Sari aren’t a comeback, they never made it big enough that anything they do will make waves, they’ve come to terms with that.  But you?  You were someone.”  Golden eyes sparkle and he presses his lips together, “Besides, you’re cute.”

Hyun blushes “I don’t want to ride anyone’s coat tails.”

Saeran shakes his head. “We’ll make a contract, I’ll have my lawyer call your agent, I’m not  _ giving _ you anything you haven’t earned.”

He considers it.  

“Kyungju’s Father has nothing to do with the show itself, if I get you on you’re basically telling him to shove his fucking rumors up his flat ass.”

“Fine.”

“That’s all I had to say?” Saeran snorts, “I should have lead with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

He can’t believe he’s doing this.  Can’t believe he didn’t just offer this guy a pep talk and breakfast and a ride back to his bike.  He stares into Hyun’s bloodshot garnet coloured eyes and, yeah he can totally believe he’s doing this.  He’s had a crush on Zen since he was 13 years old.  Cutting out pictures of him arriving to gala’s with Kyungju, or tabloid photos of him smoking by his bike.

When the bartender had asked if he knew which bike was Zen’s he could have squealed, if he was the kind of person who squealed.  He remembered it from the pictures on his bedroom wall.  Remembered it from the articles that called him callous and reckless when he’d restored it after the accident.  

He’d been so shy and awkward when Zen had been in Cube World.  All of his time spent practicing, and composing and none of it talking to anyone younger than his mother.  His brother didn’t count.  Talking to Saeyoung could hardly have prepared him to talking to a single other person in existence.  

He’d barely done more than hide behind his mother or Saeyoung while the pretty older boy had thanks  _ Mother _ for the opportunity.  He’d thought to make up for that when he saw him sitting at the bar, most people watching Jisu but Zen had been looking at him.

Lots of people  _ looked _ at Saeran.   

That’s why he looked the way he did.  Sure he had a whole room full of clothing.  He could look anyway he wanted, but he knew what suited him.  What made men look at him.  He liked to look soft.  He liked the way it contrasted his personality.  He liked the look on their faces when they submitted to their soft candy baby.

Hyun hadn’t looked at him like that.  There had been interest in those stolen glances sure, but there’d been something else.  Hyun had looked at him like he was trying to figure him out.  No one tried to figure Saeran out before.  Not even Yoosung, or Jisu as much as they both cared about him.

Hyun is still watching him,  slowly finishing the breakfast Yoosung had made.  If there was one thing he missed about waking up next to Kim Yoosung it was breakfast.

Hyun clears his throat and Saeran realizes he’s still kneeling on the floor, palms still pressed to the tops of his thighs. He gives them a squeeze and shrugs, “Soft.”

He likes the pink that rises in Hyun’s cheeks, does a little to make him look less like a corpse.

“I’m uh-”

“Not training, not dancing, you’re soft.  I bet you’ve got a beer gut too,” Saeran snorts standing and stretching.  “Maybe it’s a good thing you were too drunk to fuck.”

“That’s,  _ hey _ ,” Hyun almost whines.

Saeran shrugs as his phone buzzes in his pocket, “I’m kidding, Dad bod is a thing now.”

Hyun watches him answer the phone, watches him frown. “Yeah no I did forget but it’s not a problem,” he tells the woman on the other end of the line, “you can bring him over any time.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow as he raises his cup to his lips and Saeran stifles a laugh when the cup turns out to be empty.

“I teach music lessons too,” he says taking the mug and pouring Hyun another coffee.  He waves his hand around and gestures to himself, “This isn’t cheap.”

“You work a lot?”

“As much as I want. Not always on what I want but it keeps money in the bank and cashmere on my back,” he shrugs. “Listen I’m gonna make a call, stand up.”

Hyun does, slowly, still sipping at his coffee. 

“Arms out,” Saeran orders fixing the clip on top of his head.

Hyun takes a deep drink of his coffee, wishes it was beer, and does what he’s told.

“Hmm,” Saeran hums.  He circles him, runs one finger along his shoulders, “obedient,” he muses under his breath and taps Hyun’s arms.  The smirk on his face only gets bigger when they drop immediately. “Been awhile since I’ve had a puppy, who trained you?”

“What?”

Saeran laughs. “When you go to your place bring, hmm do you still fit in your leather pants?  Doesn’t matter” he waves his hand before Hyun can respond, “you will, bring them, and,” he hums again, “Bring nice things.  The things you don’t wear anymore because she bought them for you.” He hold up his hands when he sees Hyun bristle. “They’re clothes, do you think she’d be happy you’re like this?”

Saeran watches long fingers flex against dirty denim.  He watches the way Hyun’s nostrils flair and his Jaw clenches.  

“I’m not going to treat you like an emotional invalid, only one of you died Hyun, it’s been two years.  You can have feelings but if you want to do this you need to stop fucking dwelling on it.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer he leaves the room.  It’s obvious how much he’d loved her, it had been obvious when she was alive but it was a neon sign now.  Hyun couldn’t do this memorial if he was still acting like she’d only been dead a week.  Saeran was going to have to come up with ways to distract him.  He could respect the grieving process but this was excessive.

He makes a call, grits his teeth and gives exact instructions even though he knows they’ll probably be ignored.  He talks while he does his hair, and then makes a second call.  They’re probably in the same room but he hates having to filter his requests through the chaos.  He talks, explains his plan, what he needs, he’s met with a litany of thoughtful sounds and an invitation to discuss the details more thoroughly over dinner.

Hyun is gone when he’s finished dressing and he’s unsurprised.  Life had been dull lately but this was something to get up for.

Hyun can’t remember where the front door is but he suspects it’s in the direction the man with the red hair is pointing.  He’d just  _ appeared _ in the kitchen, and if Hyun squints a little he thinks maybe this guy might look like Saeran.  

The man with the red hair and the black and yellow jacket stands in the entry to the kitchen smiling and making finger guns before pointing to the hall with his thumbs.  Hyun doesn’t follow.

Everything is still kind of blurry and he’s pretty sure his contact lenses are well past really functional and he’s not exactly sure who this guy is.

The man sighs, “Come on, didn’t the Little Prince tell you I was coming?”

“No,” Hyun sips at the dregs of his cold coffee.  

_ This guy _ he thinks as he watches the red head contort his face and play at outrage.  Hyun would think he was a slob, his jacket was wrinkled and covered in orange cheesie dust handprints, his pants were baggy and worn, his boots were scuffed to the steel toe and his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a week.  _ But _ those obnoxious glasses he’s wearing are Gucci.  The rings on his fingers glitter with real jewels and the cross around his neck looks like platinum.

He follows the guy out of the house, the car parked on the street is foreign, some overpriced 2 door sports car he recognizes from Kyungju’s father’s garage.  It’s bright red, has yellow racing stripes. It’s as obnoxious as it’s driver. The inside is a mess, it reflects the mess of a man behind the wheel.  Empty soda bottles, empty candy wrappers, crumbs, chip bags.  The backseat is full of them.

“Sorry,” he says, looking sheepishly at the mess in his mirror, “I stress eat when Daddy’s busy.”

There’s something about the way he says it that sets off a small warning bell in Hyun’s mind but he’s muddled with all the things going on and he doesn’t realize he’s taken the bait until after he’s opened his mouth. “You live with your Dad?”

“I’m adopted,” he snorts with a grin as the car starts to make some shrill sound that feels like razor blades behind Hyun’s eyes. “Perfect timing Daddy.”

“Saeyoung,” the voice that comes out of the car speakers sounds tired, “I’ve asked you  _ not _ to call me that, certainly not in front of people, if you can help yourself.”

Hyun can see the man,  _ Saeyoung _ , puff out his cheeks absently and wrinkle his nose.  “Sorry,” he mumbles as though he’s taken his scolding to heart.

“I assume you’re with  _ people _ ,” the softening voice on the end of the line says, “your brother’s pet is with you now?”

“Mmhmm, the  _ very good boy _ has landed,” Saeyoung chuckles.

“Does he speak or-”

“I can talk,” Hyun grumbles.

“Ah, Ryu Hyun? I’m interested to meet you tonight _ but _ I would like to hear from you, when you’re not in a situation where you may feel obligated to respond with false positivity,” The man says, his voice switching from soft and tired to formal.

“Uhh,” he can feel Saeyoung watching him from the corner of his eye and he can feel the heat bloom in his cheeks, he feels dumb, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“To the point,” the man on the phone says, “I’m not interested in how  _ excited _ you might be for the opportunity to work with someone as talented as Choi Saeran, nor am I interested in how humbled or grateful you are, I am entirely uninterested in any emotion you may feel regarding the event as I am very aware of your history.  All I  _ am _ interested in is whether or not you think you can achieve what my brother in law is promising of you.”

“I uh-”

“Honesty  _ please _ . Can you meet, at the very least, 78% of his expectations?”

Hyun bristles.  Saeran’s expectations hadn’t been laid out clearly, just  _ sober and shining _ .  He’s pretty sure he can do that. “Yes.” It’s curt and firm and spoken with more confidence than anything he’s said in almost a year.

“Very good, Mr. Ryu,” the voice softens slightly, there’s a hint of amusement in it. “Saeyoung,  _ Darling _ , you have your brother’s list, I know you took it with you but please know I saw your annotations. I’m texting you the list as he dictated it, please for once in your miserable life do what you’ve been told.”

There’s a click, like someone hanging up an actual handset telephone and Saeyoung groans. “God I hate it when they gang up on me.  Choo Choo all aboard the boring train to bore town.”

Hyun chuckles. “You’re Saeran’s brother?”

“Choi Saeyoung,” he nods and laughs, “we’re twins?  You didn’t  _ notice _ that?”

Hyun makes a low noise in his throat and wipes his hands on his pants while they’re stopped at a red light.  He reaches up and plucks the contacts out of his eyes, Saeyoung makes a choked distressed noise, and Hyun chucks them out the window.  Obviously they were useless.

“Hey, hey!  Geeze, what are you doing?  Wow can you just- huh.”

“Can’t see anyway apparently,” Hyun shrugs as they turn onto his street.  Even in the gaussian blur that was his vision he could recognize the familiar surroundings. “Hey, wait, I didn’t tell you where I live.”

“Nope.”

“Saeran doesn’t know where I live,” Hyun mumbles.

“He does not,” Saeyoung grins.

“It’s not, I’m unlisted after I moved,” he says more to himself than anyone else.

Saeyoung nods, “Yep, you are.”

“How-”

“Shh, secrets,” Saeyoung chuckles.  He leans across the seat and covers Hyun’s buckle with his hand keeping him trapped by the seat belt.  His face is too close in the small car and Hyun suddenly feels very claustrophobic.  Those familiar golden eyes, a little wider and angled slightly higher, watching his face.  The dusting of freckles a little more prominent.  Saeyoung digs through his pockets and then makes a little  _ woohoo _ noise when he finds Hyun’s phone.

Saeyoung takes the phone and gets out of the car.  Hyun takes a moment, he catches his breath, steadies his breathing and slowly unclips the belt before getting out of the car. Saeyoung tosses his phone back to him. “There you have the list, you can do the boring bits, I’m gonna be nosey find some interesting things to stick in your suitcase.”

Hyun doesn’t answer.  He checks his phone, opens the text from  _ The Most Interesting Person You Know _ and frowns at the list.  It’s  _ detailed _ , specific clothing Hyun hasn’t thought about in a long time, designers and styles.  The D&G tweed pants, the Purple Dior Jacket, things Kyungju had bought for him, mostly to attend events.  He prefered his off-brand jeans and jackets and usually she let him have that.  It never really mattered in the long run, but when it did there was a box with a bow on his table and something just his size.

He gets his glasses off the dresser in his room, collects the things on the list; athletic wear, styling products, it’s detailed down to his underwear and what styles of  _ that _ he should pack.  Hyun gather’s his spare helmet, unsure whether or not Saeran had taken his or left it at the bar.  Grabs his spare keys and the nice heavy leather Jacket, the last thing Kyungju had bought him, and meets Saeyoung by the car.  

He looks up from his phone, one of Hyun’s backpacks slung over his arm and smirks. “Oh quick, and to the point, my brother is gonna fall in love with you if you keep that up.” 

Saeyoung pops the trunk and helps Hyun with his suit case and garment bags, he tucks the backpack in next to it.

“Ok, go in change into your gym clothes we’ve got time before we have to be back, we’re gonna play a game.”

“A  _ game _ ?” Hyun doesn’t like the way he says it.

Saeyoung pats him on the belly, “Yes, a game chubby bunny, go change.”

He frowns but he does what he’s told.  He has the feeling that his future holds a lot of frowning but ultimately doing what he’s told.

Saeyoung is in the car when he comes back out.  He’s behind the wheel with his seat fully reclined, the door is open and one foot is firmly on the pavement outside.  He’s on the phone, looking frustrated or disappointed or possibly both.

“ _ Suranie _ ,” he whines.  

“Saeyoungie,” the woman on the other end mocks. “I can not give you time that isn’t available, Calliope has a class in that room then I have a session, twenty minutes top.”

“ _ Private lessons _ ,” He says slowly, “do you not have dollar signs in your eyes right now?”

“No, I have a vein in my forehead roughly the shape of Italy.” She growls. “Twenty minutes, it’s good last minute.”

“The calendar still has Studio C empty,” he counters. “Nothing for an  _ entire _ hour after Iwakura, what’s your game.”

“My fucking game is not everything is about you Princess,” she growls. “Twenty minutes.”

“God,” Saeyoung whines and hangs up, turning his head to look at Hyun standing in his complex’s yard.  He wrinkles his nose and whines, “ _ God _ .”

Hyun recognizes the studio, he’s never been able to afford the lessons they offer here, though Kyungju had offered to pay for them, he’d refused.  Saeyoung strides confidently ahead of him holding a door and smiling brightly as he steps in.  He leads Hyun past a small reception area where he snatches a box of slippers off the shelf without looking.

There’s another waiting area, benches and windows into the 4 studios all currently active.  Saeyoung presses his face against each one until the instructor in the room glances at him. A tall indian man waves and forces a smile, a very small japanese woman flips him off, the woman he recognizes from Saeran’s that morning has a room to herself she nods towards them.  

The final room with the C above the door contains a class of children and a soft American woman with asymmetrical white hair.  She salutes Saeyoung.  The children are paired off and excitement spreads on her face as she waves him in.  Hyun can hear him chuckle as he toes off his boots and holds up a finger.  

He drops the box with the slippers in Hyun’s lap and taps on a locker. It pops open and Hyun watches him tuck his sweater and the cross inside.  He pulls out a worn pair of black slippers and pulls them on.  He winks before he slips inside the door.  Saeyoung and the white haired woman lead the children in Sleeping Beauty’s Waltz.  Hyun recognizes the music, he recognizes the movements.  

It hits him.  Saeyoung is good, he’s really good.  The woman he’s dancing with is good also, but nothing like the man she’d waved in.  There’s a quality to the way he moves that suggests that she is a teacher and he is a performer.  He wonders if he ever had that quality, if he’ll ever have it again.

The woman’s smile is bright and warm and she looks like she’s always just about to laugh.  More so when Saeyoung is looking at her.  The dance finishes and there is a teaching moment that Hyun can’t hear.  He watches Saeyoung behind the woman, mocking her, and he watches the woman turn quickly to playfully smack him in the arm.  

Together they usher the children out until Hyun is surrounded by 8 talented small people who all eye him cautiously.

“Noona,” Saeyoung pouts, “can you warm up my brother’s new friend while I change?”

She blushes, and shoves him again. “Yeah yeah, leave me with the baby boy.”

“What is with you people,” Hyun frowns.

She smiles, “Come along, lets get you ready.”

He can tell by the tight quality of her smile she expected more.  Frankly so had he.  He’s more out of shape than he’d expected and when she shakes her head slightly he glances behind him to see Saeyoung frowning with his arms crossed in front of his chest.  He sighs and he walks towards them.

“You want me to give you a hand Babe?” She smiles.

“God could you Cal?” He groans.

“What are you thinking about?”

He flips a book of discs open like it’s 2003 and taps two CDs.  She frowns and runs a finger over each one and taps the second.

“Really?  You think he can?” Saeyoung snorts.  His demeanor has shifted entirely. The bubbly goofy mess is gone.  He’s combed his hair, the clothing he’s wearing is clean, his face his serious, his body language is professional.

“I think he  _ could _ ,” she shrugs, “might as well give him a chance.”

Saeyoung rolls his eyes and sticks the CD in the ancient player.  He gestures at Hyun to pay attention. “If you know this jump in, if you don’t just watch and we’ll see what you pick up.”

The woman he’d called Cal strikes a pose as the song starts to play.  Saeyoung’s moves are fluid and deliberate from the flick of his eye to the twitch of his fingers, he moves in front of Cal and she comes to life.  She’s not a small woman nor is she overly large but Hyun watches them move perfectly in sync and he feels a little like an asshole for being impressed with how on the ball she is.

He’d thought he was more in shape than she looked and he was very wrong, should have known he was wrong, she taught ballet.  All he does is get drunk in bars and pass out in strangers cars apparently.

The choreography looks familiar, he tries to push past the memory of her laugh, the memory of her hand tugging on his sleeve.  Or the way she’d teased him while they moved the furniture out of the way.  He thinks, somewhere in his sluggish mind he might know this.

Watching them it looked easy enough, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think it was a simple as it looked.  They were practiced enough that it simply  _ looked _ easy.  He can see a number of moves that he didn’t have the strength to perform.  

They stop two thirds in and look at him.  “Come on Hyun, let's see, can you do what Cal is doing?”

_ Shit _ , he should be able to do some approximation of it.  If he was in shape, on his game, he could have watched that and pulled it together.  How many of his auditions had been exactly that? Sing this song, watch this choreography once and give it a try.

He starts the song and Hyun steps up to mimic her stance, watches her and tries to play it like it’s just a hard mode version of the mirror game.  He’s stiff, his movements jerky where they should be fluid.  His timing is off, his hips won’t move the way the should and his footwork is sloppy.

He doesn’t have to see the disappointed look on Saeyoung’s face, he’s already disgusted with himself.

Saeyoung sighs, Cal rests a hand on Hyun’s shoulder and smiles. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Callie he’s been doing this for 10 years, he’s only been off for 18 months,” Saeyoung says, his voice is soft, even. He’s not trying to hurt anyone’s feelings.

She shrugs. “Starting over is still starting, Babe.”

Hyun’s finds himself relaxing.  He likes that.  Saeyoung smiles. “God you’re sweet.  How’d you end up teaching for the devil?”

“Princess,” a voice calls from the door.  The small japanese woman taps her watch and points at Saeyoung.

“Suranie,” he whines, his bottom lip juts out. “10 more minutes?”

She shakes her head but she walks away.

“Try the other one,” Callie says with a shrug.

He purses his lips. “Might as well.”

Hyun helps Calli unfold a table that’s leaning against a closet door while Saeyoung changes the disc.   “No break, Cal is going to signal you when to join in.  I’m sure you’ve seen this before,” he adds. “Just do your best to mirror her.”

Hyun watches Saeyoung disappear into the closet the table had been leaning against and come out in a pair of 4” pumps. Hyun takes a few steps back but Callie gesture for him not to move to far.

It takes him a minute to wrap his head around the role reversal.  Saeyoung in the heels towering over Callie but she steps into the masculine role of the dance with ease.  He is familiar with this song too, had seen the performance on social media.

He watches Saeyoung, perfectly perform the feminine role while Callie doesn’t waiver.  He’s impressed watching them. The control she has over her movements, the ease with with she lifts Saeyoung. 

“You know you probably could have started where you want him to come in.” Surana says from the doorway. 

Saeyoung flips her off, “No fun.”

Not a beat missed as Callie signals for him to join her.

He hates this. This should be easy, he used to learn stuff like this in his living room and now he’s still out of breath from their previous attempt.

By the time they reach the simplest part of the choreography he’s breathing heavily, red faced and the woman in the doorway is shaking her head.

Saeyoung ends the music. “Who are you training Surana?” he asks.

She shrugs.

“Can I stand in the doorway and judge them for not being me?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“You and I both know that was pathetic, look at him Saeyoung, he’s beneath you.” She snorts.

Hyun doesn’t bristle, he can’t defend himself.  He  _ was _ pathetic, this was no where near his best and his best was thrown together from free community centre classes and choreography he’d learned on the job.  Still Callie’s hand on his shoulder is comforting and Saeyoung’s willingness to jump to his defence is admirable.

“Yeah, how long did it take you to bounce back from your injury?  How many years?” Saeyoung’s head tilt is predatory.

Surana’s jaw sets and she rolls her shoulders. “Out.”

“Hmm,” he taps at his chin. “I don’t know, I think maybe I should call Saeran up, he might want to have a look at what we’re working with.”

“The room is booked,” she says carefully.

“Wasn’t in the calendar,” he shrugs.  “I mean, I do own ⅓ of this studio, didn’t Jumin buy your share?”

She growls under her breath.

“What’s happening?” Hyun whispers as Callie’s fingers dig into his shoulder.

“Dick measuring,” she sighs, “He’s knows hers is bigger so he pulled out the Daddy card.”

There’s tense silence, the two of them standing toe to toe, Saeyoung towering over her as they stare.  Then he shrugs and laughs. “Oh, time to go, we’re on a schedule.”

“Are you going to pay for the slippers?” Surana asks.

“I don’t think I am,” Saeyoung waves.

Saeyoung disappears once they’re out, he’s back in his grubby street clothes when he reappears in front of his locker.  He taps the one below it and smiles at Hyun. “Toss your slippers in here, it’s yours while we’re working together.”

“So you’re a dance teacher?” Hyun asks.  Trying to figure out exactly where he stands in this bizarre situation.

“For you Little Wolf?” Saeyoung smiles his cheshire grin.

“No,” Hyun shakes his head, “really.”

“Nah, I don’t teach, and I’m not teaching you,” he says very clearly as they walk to his car. “I’m a choreographer, I worked with your girlfriend you know?”

“You did?”

“Yeah before she dropped us all to legitimize her career change,” he snorts. “I mean we get it this was never her stage, no hard feelings.”

“So then what are you doing with me?” Hyun asks.

“Choreographing,” Saeyoung laughs. “Listen the Little Prince isn’t the only person who can benefit from you making a comeback.”

“Doesn’t look like you  _ need _ to benefit,” Hyun shrugs.

“Needing to isn’t really relevant,” Saeyoung laughs.  “Don’t let Surana get to you.”

“She was right,” Hyun says.

“Yeah but she said it for the wrong reasons.” He frowns. “I know who you are, being honest is one thing but she didn’t have to act like she didn’t take three years to start training again.  You might be out of shape, that  _ might _ have been pathetic, but you tried.”

The bartender slides a pint towards him when they enter the bar and Saeyoung gasps and covers his mouth.

“Uh no thanks,” Hyun shakes his head. “Do you have my keys?”

“Nah,” the bartender says, he pulls the pint back towards himself hesitantly. “Helmets in the office, your bike’s in the alley.”

“Yeah sorry I’m late.”

The bartender shrugs and Saeyoung follows him through the bar.  Hyun grabs his helmet from the office and keeps going, through the back door into the alley where the employees park.

“Ok Little Wolf,” Saeyoung smiles, “you know how to get back?”

Hyun nods.

“I’ll drop your things off with the Little Prince.” He pulls Hyun into a hug, “See you tonight,  _ can’t wait _ .”

It almost sounds ominous.

He passes Saeran’s street at first, has to backtrack before he finds it.  Saeyoung’s car is pulling out of the driveway and the horn honks as they pass. He parks his bike and goes inside.  He hangs his jacket on one of the empty wall hooks, toes off his sneakers and sets them neatly on the mat next to a small pair of shoes before he follows the sound of a piano.

Saeran is sitting next to a small boy, his eyes are closed and his head is tilted towards the boy.  He looks thoughtful, serene, his eyebrows knit together with every missed note but he doesn’t do anything to stop the boy playing.

“That was excellent Joon,” Saeran says. “You need to practice more, keep your wrists loose so you can hit those keys giving you trouble.”

The boys cheeks pink and Saeran ruffles his hair.  He makes eye contact with Hyun over the piano and smiles.  They both stand and Saeran gathers the music and hands it to the boy. He puts his arm around him and guides him past Hyun and out of the room. A small flick of his wrist to tell Hyun to follow them.

Saeran walks the boy to the door and waves him off with encouraging words.  When the boy is gone and the door is shut he turns.  Hyun realizes he’s changed.  His eyes are green, the glasses are gone.  He’s wearing a graphic tshirt under a grey cardigan, a suede choker hugs his neck with a small silver heart and his hair falls across one side of his face, pink now rather than white.

He wraps one cold hand around Hyun’s and tugs him along behind him, smiling over his shoulder. “Come along, Hyun,” he calls.

The room is full of clothes.  A taller person in a loose purple shirt is hanging Hyun’s clothing in a small closet, mumbling to themself.  They narrow their eyes on Saeran, “You couldn’t do this yourself?”

“I pay you don’t I?” Saeran snorts.

They roll their eyes and kick at the base of a mannequin.

Saeran ignores them.  He starts to pull at things from the larger closet, glancing back at Hyun every few moments, feeling at the fabrics and pulling out the arms.  He screws up his mouth and takes a few quick steps towards Hyun. He stalks around him, reaching out to let his hands run along his shoulders, his back, his chest.  

He can feel his ears get hot.

There are gagging noises from somewhere behind him.

“Out,” Saeran growls. He goes back to his closet. “You should shower,” he says, idly searching through shirts, “come back when you’re finished.”

Saeran watches Hyun, cheeks pink as he leaves the room and considers what his brother had said.   _ He’s lost but he doesn’t want to be.   _ Saeran thinks he could find him, he’s not even sure it will be that hard.  Hyun can’t see the forest for the trees.  He’s spending so much time staring at his feet he can’t see the lights in the distance.

The man doesn’t dawdle.  Saeran has picked out a shirt from his own closet and is looking through the things Hyun has brought, everything from his list, though he has concerns about the backpack his brother had handed him.  

He jumps when Hyun clears his throat from the doorway.  Wearing only a towel and pink from both the hot shower and nerves.  Saeran thinks, as he steps towards Hyun, that he could be his life preserver.  

He thinks, as he cards his fingers through damp white hair, perhaps for the first time in his life, that he  _ wants _ to be the thing a person clings to.  He thinks, as he pulls Hyun down and presses their lips together, that maybe this time it will be ok.  Maybe this time he won’t run.


	3. Chapter 3

_ He’s so small _ .  Hyun is standing, naked but for a towel, in Saeran’s closet.  Bent awkwardly at the waist while nimble fingers comb through his hair and plush lips press against his, that is his first thought.  Saeran is small, delicate, his shoulders are narrow, his cheeks are round and soft and he is  _ so small _ .

He forgets, for a moment, everything else.  Forgets that he’d come back because he was told.  Forgets that this whole situation made him nervous.  Even forgets Kyungju.  

Two years fade from memory as Saeran’s tongue slips past his lips.

He wraps his arms around Saeran’s waist and pulls him closer, makes to lift him up.  Straighten his back and feel Saeran’s legs wrapped around his waist but Saeran doesn’t budge.  He holds his ground, fingers tangled in Hyun’s hair he tugs.

“Hmnnng,” their lips part and Hyun groans.  He tucks his forehead into Saeran’s neck and trails kisses along his collar as Saeran continues to tug, and pull and press until Hyun finds himself kneeling in front of him looking up into Saeran’s smiling face.  One nimble finger keeps his chin tilted up as Saeran’s thumb strokes his jaw.  

His face is soft and considerate as he bends to press a soft kiss to the corner of Hyun’s mouth.  “There you are,” he says, more to himself than Hyun.

The fingers in his hair loosen and he combs out the tangles he’d caused before he turns back to the closet where Hyun’s clothing hangs.

“Stay right there,” the words are soft but firm, an order if he’d ever heard one.

He’s dropped his towel but he doesn’t move to cover himself, doesn’t feel embarrassed or exposed.  They barely know one another but he feels like Saeran can see him in way most people don’t.  In a way no one has seen him in a long long time.  Even Kyungju had gotten lost in the glow that had been Zen from time to time.

“Hyun,” Saeran says softly.

He lifts his head lazily to look in the direction of his name.

“You’re dripping on my floor, stand up.”

He does what he’s told as Saeran gathers up the towel he’d dropped.  Saeran gestures at him and he bends forward.  Saeran pulls his hair over his shoulder and squeezes at it with the towel.  It’s soft and gentle and the feel of Saeran’s fingers against his scalp is soothing.  He sighs.

Saeran lays the towel across his shoulders, he takes Hyun by the chin and tilts it so that he’s forced to look at him. Artificially green eyes search his face before Saeran lets go, a wave of his hand to tell him to straighten up.

“This is your chance to back out,” he says finally.

“What?”

“If this is too much, if you don’t think you can do it, just say so.  I won’t be upset.”

He pulls the towel from his shoulder and wraps it around his waist. “Did I do something wrong?”

Saeran laughs, he can see the tinge of pink in his cheeks, the way he wets his lips and looks away. “If you don’t want to, or you don’t think you’ll be ready in time,” he stops. “Hyun you don’t have to impress me.   _ This _ ,” he sighs. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Hyun I have had a crush on you since I was a teenager, if you’re trying to impress me for an opportunity you don’t have to.  You don’t have to pretend to like me, I respect your work I would do this even if I didn’t want to fuck you.  If you’re pushing yourself to impress me I’m already impressed.  I’ll help you or not, fuck you or not, just,” he sighs, “just be honest with me.”

It’s a plea.  The first time in the the twenty-four hours that Hyun had known him that he’s seemed vulnerable, human.  Hyun doesn’t move, he considers what Saeran has said before he takes a step towards him, runs a hand through Saeran’s hair and smiles down at him. “I want to.”

“To what?” Saeran asks, his voice shakes.

Hyun shrugs. “All of it.  You, the opportunity, I don’t know what will come of it but I want to try.  It’s,” he laughs nervously, “stupid maybe.  I don’t really know you but I feel  _ hopeful _ for the first time since that night.”

Saeran’s jaw sets, his face turns serious but Hyun can see the hint of a smile, he can hear the soft sigh of relief. “You’ll need more than hopeful tonight. Can you be confident, my brother is one thing but his husband will see through  _ hope _ .  Han Jumin will want to see confidence.”

Hyun takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Don’t know.”

Saeran sighs and rolls his eyes. He taps Hyun on the belly.  “Suck that in tonight.”

Hyun chuckles and does his best to comply. 

“Wear dark pants that are comfortable,” he tugs at a pair of pants, a purple so dark they looked black. “These maybe.”  

He gathers them up, he’d wear them regardless.

“Hyun,” Saeran laughs, a hanger in each hand, “only if they  _ fit _ .  You don’t want Jumin to mistake ill fitting pants for inadequacy.”

Han Jumin sounded terrifying, yet he was married to Saeran’s brother who was, well, decidedly not terrifying.  Hyun had no idea what to expect.  He stares at the pants, everything Saeran had asked him to bring had been items he’d never worn more than twice.  If he’d questioned whether Saeran was serious about being his fan all he had to do was look at the list Saeyoung had handed him.

Saeran had an eye for clothing certainly but to remember not just the colour but the designer.  Hyun didn’t even know the designer for most of them.

“You look worried,” Saeran is very close to him when he speaks.  He frowns when Hyun looks up and holds out the two shirts he’s been staring at.  He screws up his mouth and sighs. “This one I think,” he mumbles hooking the hanger over Hyun’s wrist and going back to his open over full closet.

“I’m not  _ worried _ ,” Hyun says and when he turns to look at him, Saeran his pulling his shirt over his head.

“Nervous then?” Saeran asks.

Hyun’s eyes trace the tattoo on his shoulder as he nods slowly.

“You used to woo investors all the time, this is just that,” Saeran shrugs unbuttoning his pants.

He blushes. He’d been naked, or almost naked, for most of the conversation but Saeran taking his own clothing off, even just to change his clothing seemed more intimate.  Hyun had been changing in front of people for years, simply because of his job but Saeran didn’t seem like the type.

Saeran’s lips quirk up and he leaves his pants unbuttoned, loose on his narrow hips and takes a step towards Hyun.  “I wonder if there’s something I could do for your nerves.”

“Like what?” He asks, trying to to step back.  Trying not to feel so much like Saeran’s prey.

Saeran takes his hand, leads him to sit in front of the vanity mirror.  Hyun swallows but all Saeran does is pick up a brush and start to comb through his hair properly.  He can see him in the mirror, his tongue pink between his teeth as he works.  He reaches for bottles and jars and it’s all Hyun can do not to groan when he massages product into his scalp.  

He closes his eyes when Saeran reaches for a blow drier, lets himself indulge in a moan that’s lost to the sound of the machine and when he opens his eyes he can see Saeran staring down at him. His eyes are dark as he combs white hair out of Hyun’s eyes.

“When was the last time you got laid,” Saeran asks, like he’s asking if he’d rather chicken or pork.

Hyun shrugs and laughs, “I don’t know not long-”

“Sorry, when was the last time you fucked someone who’s name you knew?” A hint of mischief in his eyes.

Hyun frowns. “A while,” he mumbles.

Saeran forces the chair around so Hyun is facing him, cheeks pink, eyebrows knit together, and he fishes around his pocket for his phone.  His pants drop a few more inches and Hyun tries to resist the urge to lick his lips as Saeran’s boxers pull tight.  Saeran frowns at his phone and leans forward, the muscles of his stomach pressed to Hyun’s shoulder as he drops his phone on the vanity behind him.

He lets out an irritated puff of breath.  “If you behave tonight,” Saeran says softly, “I’ll reward you.”

Hyun swallows, Saeran doesn’t need to explain what he means. 

He sinks to his knees in front of Hyun and cocks his head to the side, “Still we should do something about your confidence Hyung.”  Cold hands stroke at the inside of his thighs, urging them apart as Saeran shuffles closer.

“L-like what?” he asks, voice shaky.

“Mmm, that’s no good,” Saeran presses a kiss the curve of his hip as he pulls the towel away. “What can I do for you?”

“Please,” he whispers.  He doesn’t know what to do, what to say.  His hands hang loose at his sides, his fingers twitch.

“An exercise in confidence,” Saeran scolds. “Tell me what you want Hyun.”

“Keep calling me Hyung,” he says softly.

Saeran smirks, “Alright  _ Hyung _ , what do you want me to do to you?”’

He presses his lips together and lifts one hand to cup Saeran’s cheek.  He leans into the touch, round cheeks soft against Hyun’s palm.  He traces his thumb across Saeran’s plush bottom lip, fat and bitten, he pushes his thumb against it and Saeran’s lips part.  His tongue darts out to lap at the digit before he sucks it into his mouth.

He smirks when Hyun groans.

“God that, do that,” he says, words spilling past his lips.

“Seems like a thing you could do yourself,” Saeran smirks guiding Hyun’s hand to his hair. “Lazy Hyung.”  Saeran dips his head, a press of teeth to the inside of his thigh, his hand squeeze at Hyun’s hips and he waits, eyes trained on Hyun’s face. “What do you want?”  He asks again, his voice soft but commanding.

“ _ God _ ,” Hyun moans, his fingers tangle in Saeran’s hair and he tugs him up, tries to position his lips above his cock.

Saeran chuckles, lets himself be moved to hover but fights the push.  His breath is hot against Hyun’s shower damp skin. “Use your words, Hyung.

“Suck it,” he whimpers.

Saeran snorts. “Fucking confidence Hyun, tell me what you want.”

“Suck my dick, Saeran,” Hyun says firmly and this time Saeran lets himself be pushed down, his tongue darts out to lap at the hard flesh of Hyun’s cock and the sound he makes his pathetic.

Saeran only smirks up at him as he swallows him down.

“G-god,” Hyun groans, watches him bob once, twice, feels the way his throat tightens around the tip of his cock before he pulls off and smiles. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he says softly. “God I want to take my time.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Hyun begs and lifts his hips.

Saeran swats at his legs. “We’re on a schedule, but if you impress Han Jumin tonight,” he trails off taking him into his mouth again.

He swallows him whole, tongue working the underside of his dick, hands stroking and pinching at Hyun’s hips.  He bobs his head, and swallows around him.  Hums and moans and the entire time he maintains eye contact.

Even when Hyun’s head rolls back and his eyes squeeze shut.  Even when Hyun’s hands tighten in his hair and his hips buck up into his mouth.  When Hyun looks back down Saeran’s eyes are trained on him. Searching his face as his cheeks hollow and his tongue teases.

They catch the tears in his eyes and Saeran backs off just long enough to catch his breath.  The caresses of Saeran’s hands on his sides softens.

He wants to form words, to tell Saeran how good this is.  He let’s his eyes squeeze shut, lets his head fall back again, lets his hands fall out of Saeran’s hair.  He can feel that tightness in his chest even as his orgasm builds.  Tries to will away the tears that sting at the corners of his eyes.

It’s a blow job.  Its a good fucking blow job.  He wants to tell Saeran that it feels like he’s breathing life into him and he feels so fucking stupid.  He’s getting emotional over a blow job.  

One cool hand strokes at his neck and he looks down as Saeran drags nails down his chest. He sucks in a breath at the sight of him.  Pupils blown, lips stretched around his dick, pink hair a cotton candy mess.

Hands stroke softly at the crease of his hip as he pulls back and takes a breath, “You ok? Want me to stop?”

Hyun shakes his head. “Please don’t,” he says the hint of emotion caught in his throat.

Saeran nods.  He digs his fingers into Hyun’s hips so hard they leave bruises and he wishes that he didn’t heal so quick.  He’d like to see those bruises for more than a few hours.  See them in the morning when he gets in the shower.

Saeran is harsher now, his teeth tease at the sensitive skin as he bobs his head and Hyun can’t help the moans that spill past his lips.  He catches the way Saeran’s fat lips, stretched around his dick, quirk at the corners when he tangles his hands in pink hair and fucks into his pretty mouth.

Saeran doesn’t flinch when he cums.  Doesn’t screw up his face or furrow his brows.  He pushes Hyun’s hips into the chair, and swallows around him.  Slows his pace and works him through the final tremors of his orgasm.  Smiles that Cheshire smile he has when he settles back on his heels.

Hyun doesn’t waste time, doesn’t curl his lip at the taste of his own cum on Saeran’s lips, he kisses him.  Crushes him against him as their mouths meet in a mess of lips and teeth.  He all but tumbles out of his chair as Saeran’s arms wrap tight around him in an attempt not to hit the floor too hard.

He laughs against Hyun’s lips. A bright sound that’s cut off by a groan as Hyun’s thigh brushes against his groin.

“G-god,” he growls turning his head, relaxing a moment as Hyun’s lips find his neck, another moan bubbling past his lips before he shoves at Hyun’s chest. “ _ God _ ,” he growls again. “We don’t have  _ time _ ,” it’s almost a whine. “Hyun we have to stop.”

Hyun presses his face into Saeran’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles.

“Get off me you big idiot,” Saeran grunts shoving him up and shimmying out from under him.

Hyun is smiling and Saeran pretends he doesn’t see the tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Are you feeling better about this?”

Hyun nods, a goofy smile spreading on his face. 

“Then get dressed.  We’re going to be late now.”

He does as he’s told and watches Saeran, push himself to standing.  Doesn’t miss the wet spot on his boxers as he turns and leaves the room.

The pants Saeran suggested are tight but not uncomfortable.  To be certain he stretches, bends at the waist and tries to hug tight to his legs the way he used to but even that is too difficult so he settles for touching his toes.  They dig into his hips, but there’s give, a bit of stretch.  He’s pretty sure the little roll of his belly over the waist will be hid by the shirt.

The shirt is black, the fabric shimmers silver in the light and there are sheer panels.  Saeran comes back as he’s trying it on, he catches a small smile in his directions and he watches a still shirtless Saeran sit at the vanity and start digging through the drawer.

“Should I wear a jacket?” Hyun asks. “I think I brought one that matches this.

Saeran hums thoughtfully as he carefully lines his eyes in black. “No I don’t think so, I bought you something while you were out.”

“You what?  You didn’t-”

“Shut up,” Saeran snorts. “Accept the gift Hyun.”

He sighs and Saeran laughs.

“Come here, have you ever done your own makeup I need to get dressed.” Saeran asks absently tidying the things in front of him.

“For a show, occasionally, I learned so I could get into costume quicker, but it’s been a while.  I don’t normally-”

“You’re going to tonight,” Saeran says standing and gesturing for Hyun to sit in the chair. “It will be dark, but Han Jumin will notice everything.”

Hyun nods and does what he’s told.  Cool hands rest on his shoulders. “So what do you want?”

Saeran chuckles. “I want to postpone this fucking meeting and have you show me what you planned to do to me on the floor,” he growls into Hyun’s ear. “But I’ll settle for you putting on eye liner.  Are your ears pierced.”

Hyun shakes his head, tries to fight the blush.  He feels like maybe the pants could be too tight after all. “I used to but not for years.”

Saeran huffs and pouts, “Well fuck,” he holds out an earring next to Hyun’s ear and looks disappointed. “Maybe we can try another day, I don’t want to make you look worse tonight.”

“ _ Worse _ ,” Hyun mumbles.

Saeran slaps him on the arm, “Fuck off, you know what I mean.  I can dress you up and paint you pretty but you still look like you haven’t slept since the accident, you  _ look _ like you drink as much as you do.”

They’re both still. “Sorry,” Hyun says.

Saeran tucks white hair over one broad shoulder and presses a kiss just below Hyun’s ear, presses his teeth to the flesh and smiles against pale skin as Hyun groans low in his throat and tilts his head. He pulls away, his hands rest tight against Hyun’s neck, thumbs pressing into the tense muscles. “Even sick you’re beautiful and whatever you did today you impressed Saeyoung, I’ve had three calls about you already.”

“C-calls?”

Saeran smirks, “Nothing professional, but people are interested, how do you feel about the tabloids running your photo?”

Hyun’s shoulders tense and he shakes Saeran’s hands off, leans forward and starts applying the eye makeup.

Saeran chuckles and makes his way to his closet. “I had heard you didn’t didn’t like being photographed.”

“Not when I don’t know, I don’t,” he sighs leaning closer to the mirror and playing with his glasses on his nose, “I don’t like not having control over when or where I’m photographed.” He sets the pencil back on the table and makes a frustrated noise. “Used to happen when I was a kid.”

He watches Saeran out of the corner of his eye, watches him shimmy into a pair of tight, ripped skinny jeans before he turns around. “That sucks,” he says. “You’re having trouble?”

“I’m not used to doing this without contacts.”

Saeran laughs. “Helpless Hyung can’t do his own makeup.”

Hyun blushes and frowns.

He watches Saeran finish dressing, another dangling earring, a thick black choker with a silver heart ring just under his adam’s apple.  Hyun notices his pink hair is straightened and tousled, his makeup carefully applied so that his freckles are barely visible. Saeran pulls on a snug black shirt, loose around the neck so that it falls off one shoulder.  He pulls on a studded belt and tucks the front of the shirt into his jeans as he walks towards Hyun.

Without being asked he turns his chair to face Saeran and takes off his glasses.

“Eager,” Saeran clucks his tongue. He tilts Hyun’s chin and He can almost feel the smile as he widens his eyes and looks up. “You’ll drive us to the club on your bike,” Saeran informs him. “Jumin knows the rumors about your drinking, everyone does, this gives us an excuse for you to refuse or  _ limit _ your drinking tonight when he tests you.”  Saeran moves to Hyun’s other eye, tongue trapped between his teeth as he works.  He runs his thumbs over Hyun’s eyebrows and hums thoughtfully.  “Do you mind?”

“Mind what?” he asks blinking and looking at his blurry reflection in the mirror.

“If I fill in your eyebrows,” He pulls on the drawer, and digs a few things out, “I think it’ll look nice, how blind are you without your glasses?”

Hyun shrugs. “I can get around, I can’t read anything, facial expressions are hard.”

“Are you comfortable going into this blind?”

“Yeah I guess, but I won’t be able to read the menu.”

Saeran laughs. “It’s not that kind of place, don’t worry Jumin will already have ordered for us anyway.”

He sits while Saeran fills in his brows, listens to him hum absently under his breath.  It’s soft and melodic and he finds himself closing his eyes.  He listens to Saeran hum, considers the way Saeran’s thumb strokes at his chin.

“Jumin will test you, he will have ordered you a drink when we get there, he will question you.  He is blunt he-”

“Yeah I talked to him.”

Saeran snorts, “Of course. Does he think you’re afraid of me?”

“He called me your pet, a lot of people have done that.”

“Fucking Yoosung,” Saeran growls.

“To be fair,” Hyun says, he lets his brows knit together and rests his glasses on the end of his nose so he can properly see what Saeran has done, “you  _ did _ call me a puppy.”

“In the privacy of my own fucking home,” he grumbles.

Hyun laughs.

“Just, Han Jumin  _ will _ try to rattle you, do not let him and,” Saeran’s nose wrinkles, he runs his fingers through Hyun’s hair and mumbles, rolling it up quickly and pulling it into a bun, “don’t take his shit but don’t be rude.  Stand your ground.  Confidence, not arrogance.”

Hyun swallows and nods.

“Do you like cats?”

“M’alerigic,” Hyun shrugs. “I guess they’re probably ok but I can’t be around them.”

Saeran mumbles under his breath and disappears, quickly returning with a small blue pill. “Take this, the only thing that man loves more than my brother is his fucking cat.”

He nods, takes the pill and follows Saeran out of the room.  Saeran leads him back to the kitchen, a large box on the counter and opens it.  He presents him with a heavy leather jacket. It’s sleek, streamlines, obviously made for both function and fashion.

Hyun barely has his mouth open to protest before Saeran flicks him in the lips. 

“No,” he says firmly. “Whatever else happens between us you are a product and this is simply insurance.”

Hyun nods.

Saeran scoops a chrome helmet out of the closet, pulls his own well worn leather jacket off a hook and tugs it on.  He almost protests again, almost complains that if one of them had to wear the more protective jacket it should be Saeran.  Almost says a lot of things as the realization that he hasn’t had someone on the back of his bike in months.

He thinks about what Saeran had said earlier, not anyone whose name he’d known.  He looks at Saeran’s face as he’s tugged in the direction of the door.  He hadn’t had anyone on his bike since she’d died that he’d cared about losing.  The curious look on Saeran’s face suggest that he knows, or at least suspects.

Still he let’s Saeran lead him into the driveway where his bike is parked.  A meaningful hand on his shoulder when he turns the key and hits the ignition button. “You ok?”

Hyun nods.

“You can do this,” Saeran says, his hand firm on Hyun’s hip he tugs him forward and presses a quick kiss on his lips and waits.

Hyun throws one leg over his bike and stands her up, Saeran holds out his phone a map to where they’re going is displayed on the screen and Hyun nods, memorizing the street names before he tugs his helmet on and feels the bike dip as Saeran swings himself into the seat behind him.

He inhales deeply,  _ it’s not far _ , he tells himself _ , it’s daylight, these streets aren’t busy. _  Saeran’s arms wrap around his waist and he feels the weight of his helmet against his shoulder, feels Saeran’s chest pressed against his back.  He walks the bike through a 3 point turn and checks the empty street before revving the engine and taking off.

It’s not a restaurant that they’re meeting at but a club.  A private club, with a list and a velvet rope.  With paparazzi and a crowd of people hoping for a glimpse of someone famous, or important.  Hyun doesn’t take his helmet off when he hands his bike off to the valet.  Saeran’s hand firm on his shoulder reassuring him that he’s doing fine.

One glance into Saeran’s flashy helmet confirms that he has the same idea.  Saeran links hands with Hyun, and they walk confidently past the crowd, Saeran glancing with his gleaming helmet head from side to side.  They don’t even stop at the bouncer but Hyun hears him say  _ Welcome back Mr Choi, your brother is inside already _ .

Hyun had been here once.  Kyungju had a standing invitation when they’d first met, before they’d been dating.  She’d brought him one night, neither of them quite old enough to be here but her father’s money had made up for that.

Inside the club Saeran let’s his hand go.  He helps him with his helmet and fusses with his hair for a moment frowning. “Alright pretty boy, off with the glasses. If you need something read to you tap my foot with yours I’ll figure it out.”

Hyun nods.  Tries not to mourn the comforting weight of Saeran’s hand in his.  He remembers the gauntlet, the official photographers, the too friendly staff.  Saeran steers him towards the coat check, he hands the sweet faced girl both of their helmets and his own jacket.  Taking a step back he holds out his hand to stop Hyun from removing his own.

His dark brows knit together, and he closes one eye shakes his head. “It’ll be too warm if you keep on, fuck.”  He gestures for Hyun to take it off.

Saeran keeps a respectable distance from him, it’s almost distressing at first until Hyun realizes that aside from rumors, the public at large had no confirmation of his sexuality.  Certainly until a few months ago when he’d finally given up having his fan site maintained he’d even received letters and emails from a few fans hopeful that he had plans to come out.

Everything about it had made him feel guilty and weak.

Saeyoung is visible in the crowd.  Music loud enough to accommodate anyone who wanted to dance but not so loud to stymy conversation. Saeran slaps him on the arm and points to his brother and rolls his eyes.

He’s dancing with another red head, taller than either of the twins and Hyun has a brief moment of panic that there might be three of them.  But then they turn towards him and he can see the sharp line of their jaw, the sharp curve of their brow, there is no resemblance past the hair.  Saeran tugs his attention away from them.

“Jumin already knows you’re a valuable investment,” he says lips barely moving, voice  _ just  _ audible above the music.  “If this were about producing a musical Saeyoung and I endorsing you would be enough.  We want him to throw his weight around, he wants to make sure it’s worth it.”

Hyun nods as they approach a well dressed man sitting on a sleek sofa.  His legs are crossed, one arm rests along the back of the sofa as he watches the dancers, the other holds a glass of red wine, delicately perched on his knee.  His posture is straight though he appears entirely at ease, and his fingers twitch slightly with the base.  He seems as though he is a wizard in control of every single thing happening in the club at this particular moment.

Saeran doesn’t speak, he slides into the sofa opposite. Two drinks already sitting on the table between them. Glasses not even damp with condensation as though the man in front of them had manifested them when they entered the room.

“I understand you drink whiskey Mr. Ryu,” the man says without looking at them.

“Thank you,” Hyun nods. “I appreciate the thought but I’m driving.”

“Oh,” the man smirks, “I suppose you would.”  The hand on the back of the sofa twitches and someone appears to remove the whiskey.

She watches Hyun expectantly and it takes him a moment without his glasses to realizes she’s likely looking at him expectantly. “Green tea with Honey please,” he says with a slight nod.

“Jumin,” Saeran says.

“Yes of course,” Jumin uncrosses his legs and turns away from the dancers to look at them both. “Do you prefer to go by Hyun or Zen in these situations?”

“Hyun is fine.”

Jumin nods. “And will you be performing as Ryu Hyun or Zen?”

Saeran lifts his glass and drinks deeply. “God Jumin, not even a minute.”

“Have you seen my husband today,” he says with a smirk, “because I would like to get this over with.”

Saeran groans, but Hyun can see Saeyoung and the red head moving closer, bouncing off one another, still dancing as they approach.

“I’ll be honest, if this is supposed to serve as a comeback of sorts I haven’t exactly had the chance to consider if I want to continue being Zen.” Tea is set in front of him and the girl serving them smiles at him.

Saeran’s hand lands possessively on his knee as he tugs him closer.  Hyun hides his smirk behind his cup.  Saeyoung throws himself over the back of the sofa as Jumin lifts his arms, his head lands in Jumin’s lap and he shoots Hyun a goofy smile.

“Ryu Hyun, say hello to Lee Nel,” he smiles as the taller red head drops next to him and tosses their feet into his lap.

“Nel please, I’m trying to work,” Jumin frowns.

Saeran’s hand slides further up his thigh, fingers digging in.  Hyun squeezes his legs together as Nel digs their toes into his lap and makes a disappointed noise. “Didn’t realize Director Buzzkill was here tonight,” they sigh. “Oh well.”

Their feet drop to the floor and they push themself up, lean over the table to kiss Saeyoung on the forehead and wave over their shoulder.

Saeyoung pushes himself up and reaches for his drink, eyes the tea in Hyun’s hands and raises a glass. “Designated Drivers?” He chuckles.

Hyun can’t help but smile and laugh back as he reaches forward to clink their glasses together.  Saeran’s grip on his thigh loosens, his hand moves back to his own lap.

“If I chose to do this,” Jumin says, “I will need to know tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll be speaking to the studio that soon?” Saeran asks, eyebrows raised.

“No point in delaying, Saeyoung says there’s a good deal of promise still left in your new pet.” Jumin smirks. “The way I see it as long as there’s nothing  _ wrong _ with him that the two of you cannot see to, then I might as well get it over with.  If I’m satisfied I will contact his agent and we will arrange contract negotiations tomorrow afternoon.”

Hyun sucks in a breath.

“You’ve no visible injuries from your accident,” Jumin continues.

“I recovered entirely,” Hyun nods.

“The rumors-”

“Are rumors,” Saeran cuts in. “Childish Jumin.”

“I am aware which rumors are fictitious,” Jumin snorts. “There are other rumors.”

“We all have  _ vices _ ,” Hyun forces himself to speak, forces his tone to stay light, forces his mouth to smile around the words. “I can’t deny I may uh participate in mine more than I should but I have already begun training-”

“You have?” Jumin asks, glancing between Saeran and Saeyoung.

Saeyoung shrugs, “Yeah we run together, we have for weeks.”

Saeran nods. “Jumin did you think I brought some random washed up actor home from a bar and called you up on a whim?”

Hyun tries not to look smug.

Jumin Han shifts in his seat. “The twins,” he starts, slightly ruffled, “and Mr. Kim, may have-”

“Oh god Jumin are you listening to Sari’s bullshit?” he snorts.

“Babe,” Saeyoung coos, “you know how Jisu gets about Saeran.”

Jumin Han sets his jaw and breathes heavy through his nose as Saeyoung stands and tugs at his arms.

“Come on, regroup, revitalize!” Saeyoung chirps as Jumin lets himself be pulled away from them.

“You’re doing well,” Saeran says, “and Jumin seems to be going easy on you.”

Hyun sips at his tea as Saeran’s hand slides the length of his thigh.  “You lied to him.”

“ _ You _ lied to him,” Saeran chuckles.

“I was training this morning,” Hyun counters, “I was exaggerating the truth.”

Saeran snorts, he leans forward to place his glass on the table, his hand moves to cup Hyun’s cock through his pants and he presses his palm down.  Hyun moans into his tea cup.  “Jumin would respect that.  You’re lucky Saeyoung backed you up though.”

“You uh,” Hyun swallows, Saeran’s hand shifts back to his thigh as he sits back, “you did too.”

“Han Jumin is weak to the power of twins,” Saeran snorts.  His hand sits dangerously high on Hyun’s thigh, his thumb brushing the outline of Hyun’s rapidly hardening cock. He shifts closer to Hyun. “You’re better than I expected consider the condition you were in last night I may have to rethink your reward.”

“O-oh,” Hyun stammers.  His teacup is empty and he no longer has an excuse to hide behind it.  He sets it on the table.  Saeran takes the opportunity to cup his groin again, fingers pressing into his balls as the heel of his palm grinds down on his cock. Hyun whines.

“ _ Confidence Hyung,”  _ Saeran whispers over the music as Jumin and Saeyoung return looking rumpled from the dance floor.  Saeran’s hand braces on Hyun’s back, he leans over and it likely looks as though he’s advising Hyun on their negotiations instead he whispers, “if you get this over quick enough, we could fuck here.”

“Where  _ did _ you meet, if I might ask,” Jumin continues as if no time had passed.

Hyun stifles the low moan threaten to burst out of his chest at Saeran’s suggestion.

“Fuck ups Anonymous,” Saeran grunts.

Jumin shrugs, “And you’re not,” he waves his hands, “this isn’t  _ emotional _ .

Hyun can feel Saeran stiffen next to him. “That isn’t relevant,” Hyun says clearly.

“There will be no one but me to pick up the pieces if you expect more from my brother in law than he is willing to offer.”  Saeran begins to growl but Jumin shoots him a look, “Jisu, Yoosung, My last assistant,” he lists.

“Years ago,” Saeran mumbles.

“I expect nothing from Saeran other than what he’s offered,” Hyun says.  His hand rests cordially on Saeran’s shoulder even as Saeran’s twists in the fabric of his borrowed shirt.

Jumin nods and Hyun hopes the look on his face is satisfied. “Vocally where does your training stand?”

“Practice,” Saeran shrugs. “An event like this I could have him preformance ready in a week if not for the physical aspects.”

“It’s lucky you have a month,” Jumin nods. “And emotionally?  This event will largely celebrate Echo Girl rather than Choi Kyungju, will you be able to handle that?”

Saeran’s palm is flat against his back, cool through the thin fabric, and grounding. “I can’t guarantee that tears won't be shed,” he says, ducks his head respectfully, “she was very special, I miss her a great deal.  She wouldn’t want it to affect my performance.”

Jumin stands, he tilts his wine glass up and unceremoniously drains it before tugging on the elbow of a lounging Saeyoung urging him to stand. “Come along, Love,” he coos, a firm palm landing on Saeyoung’s bottom when he turns to walk away.

Saeran groans and buries his face in Hyun’s neck when they’re out of sight. “I fucking hate them,” he whines and Hyun chuckles at how little truth lies behind that statement.

They stay like that for a long moment before lips find his throat, followed quickly by teeth. Saeran’s hand cups him through his pants, palm grind roughly into him and this time he does moan.  The sound is lost to the music as he feels lips curl against his neck.

Saeran is quick to stand, quick to almost mimic the way Jumin had tugged Saeyoung up and Hyun follows him through the crowd back out the way they’d enters.  Follows him through a nondescript door into a private washroom where Saeran locks the door behind them and then slams Hyun against it with a force that rattles his teeth.

Saeran rucks up the shirt he’d leant Hyun, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his waist as he covers Hyun mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth than anything else.  He growls into it as his tongue fucks into Hyun’s mouth.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, his voice low as he tugs at Hyun’s pants.

“ _ Here _ ?” Hyun groans, he doesn’t stop him as Saeran presses rough kisses along his jaw and throat and fumbles with the buttons of his pants, grinds himself against Hyuns thigh.

It’s hot.  One of the hottest thing’s Hyun can remember being a part of.  He’d always had too much to lose to risk it before and he wants to.   _ God _ he thinks as Saeran’s hand slips into his pants,  _ he really fucking wants to. _

He lets Saeran pull him out of his pants.  Lets him grind against his leg and bite at his neck and he thinks about being bent over the sink, thinks about watching Saeran fuck into him in the mirror and  _ god he really fucking wants to _ .

“D’you want to?” Saeran mumbles against his pulse point and sinks his teeth in.

“C-can, hng,  _ god! _ Can we,” his knees buckle as Saeran’s grip tightens. He tries to remember why he was going to say no.  It didn’t make sense, god why would he wait for this.  Then he remembers the cameras on the way out. “ _ Home _ ,” he whimpers. “ _ Please _ , can we go home?”

Saeran freezes. He steps back and looks up at Hyun. “Alright,” he nods, everything about him is tight but he helps him tuck himself back into his pants and straighten himself out.

They walk to the coat check a respectable distance from each other and claim their things.  He’s certain he hears Saeran call him a spoiled brat as he tugs his helmet over his head.

Saeran’s hand finds his as they step outside, he squeezes once and wraps his arm around Hyun’s waist while they wait for the bike to be brought around and as they pull away Saeran’s arms don’t just wrap around his waist.  They tease at his thighs, the vibrations of the bikes engine doing nothing to curb either of their arousal.

He can feels Saeran groaning into his shoulder, knows he’s holding back out of practicality and wonders what exactly they might have ended up doing on the way home if they’d taken a car instead.

Probably pulled over somewhere to fuck he figures as he turns into Saeran’s driveway. Saeran’s hand between them as he teases himself along with Hyun.

Hyun pulls his helmet off before he gets off the bike.  Saeran’s cheeks are pink, his lips red and bitten as he waits.  He grabs Hyun by the collar the moment both feet are on the pavement and pulls him into another rough kiss.  Saeran tugs his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Come on hurry up,” he grunts pulling Hyun behind him into the house.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He follows Saeran, one hand held tightly as he’s pulled along behind him.  The smaller man opening the door so quickly their momentum is barely halted.  He keeps moving kicking off his shoes as he goes and Hyun follows suit.  Saeran nimbly unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them without missing a beat as Hyun stumbles and hops behind him to pull his own off.

Hyun unbuttons his shirt one handed, following Saeran through an unfamiliar portion of the small house.  The shirt dangles from their connected hands as Hyun is tugged along behind Saeran.  Long shirt still hugging his hips and  _ god _ the way they sway.

Saeran gives him a sharp tug as they enter the dark room and Hyun loses his balance, stumbles forward slightly, his knees bumping into hard wood as he throws his hands out.

A bed.  He’s bent over a bed.

Saeran is behind him, the shirt around his wrist slipping away as the smaller man keeps him pressed over the bed in the dark, hands trailing along his sides as he presses soft wet kisses up his spine.  He presses himself against Hyun as his fingers toy with the waistband of his boxers and then he’s gone.

Hyun fights a whine.  It’s dark, he’d lost his glasses when he’d stumbled and he can’t even hear Saeran in the room.  He turns and sits on the bed in the dark, pushing himself to somewhere he assumes is the center and crossing his legs as the lights come on.  Dim and yellow tinted.

Hyun scans the room, eyes settling on Saeran leaning against a door, smirking at him. “You surprised me,” he says, “you didn’t let Jumin rattle you at all.”

“You were worse than he was,” Hyun points out as he he leans back on his elbows.

Saeran pushes away from the door frame, “He went easy on you, like I said he knows you’re a valuable investment but  _ still _ , you didn’t let him push your buttons.”

“He’s a jerk,” Hyun says as Saeran climbs onto the bed.  His eyes drawn to the loose neckline of the shirt, the collar Saeran still wears.

“He grows on you,” Saeran shrugs, shuffling closer on his knees.

“Athletes foot grows on you, doesn’t mean I want to fucking befriend it.” Hyun mumbles.

Saeran freezes and snorts. “Hyung I’m trying to fucking seduce you, what the fuck?”

He laughs, pushes up off his elbows and leans forward, his fingers graze Saeran’s thighs, just barely out of reach and he waits. “Then shut up about work.”

Saeran sighs, and shuffles a little closer.  Hyun’s fingers wrap loosely behind his thighs and he pulls but Saeran doesn’t move.  He smiles at him with that cheshire Choi grin and waits for Hyun to clamber to his knees, to meet him in the middle.  

He does, one big hand wrapping round the back of Saeran’s neck, fingers curling through his undercut and into soft pink hair as he presses his lips against Saeran’s. Saeran doesn’t give in to the kiss, his lips move against Hyun’s soft and warm, but they don’t part as he teases his tongue between them.  Saeran lips twist into a smile as Hyun whines against him, pulling him closer as he refuses to deepen the kiss.  

Then Hyun growls, his hands pulling on Saeran’s thighs and tugging him off balance, pulling the smaller man beneath him.  His lips finally part and his tongue flicks into Hyun’s mouth as big warm hands ruck up under his shirt.  Hyun’s hands are rough, calloused as they trace the dips of hips and ribs and Saeran is so soft.

_ So soft _ , he thinks,  _ and small and _ \- Hyun’s thoughts are cut off as he groans.  Saeran’s legs wrap around his hips and he rolls his hips against Hyun’s and  _ God _ , he’d missed this.  So used to killing time with his partners, so used to being a fantasy fuck.  Used to performing a role, filling some expectation based on the characters he’d played because if he couldn’t act on the stage he could sure as fuck put on a show in the bedroom after a few,  _ more than a few _ , drinks.

Saeran didn’t expect anything from him.  Saeran just  _ wanted _ him, whatever that meant, whatever he had to give.  Plush pink lips kiss down his chin, tongue lapping at the juncture of jaw and neck before Saeran sinks his teeth into his throat, sucking and humming as Hyun groans and whines.

Saeran was small, and he was deceivingly soft.  His skin, his face, even the way he dressed but he pushes back against his larger partner as he sucks and bites marks into pale skin.  His hand moving between them the palm at Hyun’s cock through the fabric of his boxers.  He grins around the flesh trapped between his teeth when Hyun ruts against his palm.

“So needy,” he teases.  

Hyun whines.

Saeran continues to push against him, shifting their positions until they’re both kneeling on the bed once again. “Needy impatient, Hyung,” Saeran chuckles.

“I, hah, I thought you wanted me to, hng,” Hyun pants as Saeran presses his knee between his thighs and Hyun finds himself rolling his hips against it, “ _ God _ ,” he whimpers. “I thought you wanted, mmpf,  _ shit.” _

Saeran chuckles, leaning forward to tease Hyun’s nipple, lapping at the little pink bud before taking it between his teeth.  Leaning into the roll of hips against his thigh. “Take your time, Little Wolf,” he purrs.

Hyun swallows.  He’s not sure what is about Choi’s and that nickname, but he liked the way it sounded on Saeran’s lips.  He takes a deep breath and looks into ethereal green eyes, “I was supposed to show you what I planned before,” he says.  It sounds petulant.  He feels like a pouting child.

Saeran doesn’t mind, he smiles softly.  Traces the line of Hyun’s cheekbone with his thumb and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Is that what you want?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “This is a reward for a job well done, do you want to show me how you were going to fuck me this afternoon?”

He makes a noise low in his throat, somewhere between a whine and a whimper as plush lips press soft kisses along his collarbones.

“Or,” Saeran continues between kisses, his fingers sink into Hyun’s hair and tug the coiled bun at the nape of his neck free from the pins, “would you rather I take care of you?”

Something about the way he says it, Hyun can’t help the blush that spreads from chest to cheeks.  The warm way Saeran looks up at him.  

“Please,” he says softly, squeezing his eyes shut.  He can feel his chest tighten, and tears prickle at his eyes.

Cool hands cup his cheeks as Saeran presses soft kisses to the corner of his eyes. “Are you ok, do you need a minute?” He asks.

Hyun shakes his head.

“What do you want?”

Had anyone offered to take care of him before?  Not as earnestly as Saeran seemed to be.  Kyungju perhaps, but even she never truly asked him what he wanted.  Made assumptions certainly, but no one had ever asked.  Saeran was asking.  He swallows a sob.  

“You,” he whispers and takes a deep breath before opening his eyes.

“You’ve already got me,” Saeran snorts and rolls his eyes.  Soft even in his sarcasm.

He kisses him, hands tangled in the shirt Saeran still wore as he pulls him forward, noses crushed together, teeth biting into lips.  Hyun swallows Saeran’s soft laughter as if it’s an antidote to whatever had been slowly poisoning him for the last two years. 

Saeran’s hand closes over the one fisted in his shirt as he pulls away, patting tight fingers until his fist loosens. “That’s enough, Pet, you can’t afford to replace this.”

“S-sorry,” he pants, reaching out to smooth the material.

Saeran slaps his hand away, reaching to tug the shirt over his head and tossing it to the side.

“You can throw it on the floor?” Hyun chuckles as Saeran presses him back.

“I fucking paid for it, I can do what I want,” he snorts.

Hyun shakes his head, levity drying the tears on his cheeks as he runs his hands along the soft curves of Saeran’s thighs.  A sharp breath when his eyes settle on the pretty pink of the ruffled panties stretched over his hips, the ruddy pink tip of Saeran’s dick pokes out of the dainty fabric and Hyun bites his lip.

Saeran keeps his knee pressed tight between Hyun’s thighs but he smirks, leans back and rolls his hips when he sees garnet eyes darken and narrow. “Do you like your gift?”

“ _ Fuck yes _ ,” he breathes.

Saeran snorts.  He drags his nails the length of Hyun’s thighs, pink trails raising in his wake.  He smooths his hands over hip bones only visible when he’s laying back like this.  He smiles, looking through his eyelashes at Hyun. “How do you usually do this?” He asks.

“What?” Hyun frowns.

Saeran laughs and shakes his head. “I asked you what you wanted and you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, uh,” he blushes.

“You have to tell me what you like, dummy,” he snorts. “I’m not going to just like fuck you if you’re not into that.  Who the fuck gets their celebrity crush in their bed and treats them like a fuck toy?”

Hyun’s blush deepens and he glances away, “I mean a lot of people I guess.”

“Shit,” Saeran says, voice hushed as he leans forward to press soft kisses across Hyun’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t realize, shit.”

He shakes his head.

“That’s fucked up I’m sorry,” Hyun’s eyes don’t meet his, still watery and firmly fixed somewhere over his shoulder.  Saeran takes his chin in his hand and forces Hyun to look at him. “ _ I’m  _ not going to do that Hyun.  So you have to tell me, how do you usually do this?”

He lets out a small moan.  Saeran’s voice is shaking slightly, his hand his firm but Hyun can see the slow quiet anger behind his artificially green eyes. The force behind those fingers hurts in the best way and Hyun is taken by how powerful the man above him is.  Small and soft and  _ commanding _ .

“Tell me,” he says gently, eyes searching his face.

“With my ass in the air and my face in the mattress,” he mumbles, unable to look away, “or the fucking floor.”

“What fucking moron would hide your pretty face?” Saeran growls.

Hyun snorts at that. “ _ Me _ .”

“Did you like it?” He asks, shaking his head. “Or would you rather top?

Hyun shakes his head. “I don’t, uh I don’t know,” he says. “I just,”  he presses his lips together until they disappear in a thin line. “I just want you to touch me,  _ please _ .”

Saeran chuckles, he runs a hand up the inside of Hyun’s thigh, “Like this?” He purrs.

“Mmm,” Hyun hums.

“Hyung, you need to use your words,” Saeran chuckles.

“Yes, please,” he whines. “Use my name.”

“Hmm, you said earlier,” Saeran frowns as he hooks his fingers into Hyun’s boxers.

“I know, I just, I like when you use my name.”

Saeran chuckles as he drags his boxers down his legs, slowly.  Watching as his dick twitches in the cool air. The way goosepimple raise in his wake. “Alright Hyun, I can do that.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, eyes fluttering closed as Saeran’s hand brushes his length.

“Look at me,” Saeran orders, leaning over Hyun and fumbling around the nightstand for a moment.

When he opens his eyes Saeran has a bottle of lube and a condom, he’s grinning wickedly as he reaches out to pinch one of Hyun’s nipples between his thumb and finger, watching as his back arches, plush lips parting at the sound of his moan.

“Last chance Little Wolf, I can fuck you or ride you but you’ve got to choose.”  Saeran lets him go, he trails his hand down Hyun’s chest and bend to lick along the length of his dick, eyes never leaving Hyun’s face.  One eyebrow raised questioningly.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he grunts, “Fucking,  _ shit, _ please, Saeran,” he begs, “fuck me.”

“Mmm,” he hums around Hyun’s tip and pops off to sit up on his knees, “good choice Hyun,” he tugs at the panties.

“C-can you leave them on?” Hyun asks.

Saeran smirks.  “Hmm?  You like them that much?”

Hyun nods.

“Of course sweet boy, of course I’ll leave them.”  Saeran shimmies the panties down his hips just enough to pull his dick out.  Hyun shifts then, long legs struggling as he tries to roll onto his belly.  Thigh still trapped between Saeran’s knees.  Saeran strokes himself idly and frowns down.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Um,” Hyun frown pushing himself on his elbows, “you’re going to-”

“Yeah ok, but I want to see your face,” Saeran snorts, “I thought I was pretty clear.”

Hyun’s face contorts in confusion, “Ok but I thought-”

“W-wait,” Saeran smirks a giggle escaping his lips. “Did you think, you know that you  _ had _ to get fucked from behind?”

“I uh,” Hyun starts, “I never really thought about it,” he admits. 

“Fuck,” Saeran snorts. “Hyun you’re lucky you’re hot because that’s the dumbest shit I have ever heard.”

He blushes as Saeran leans down to press their lips together, swallows soft giggles before Saeran pushes himself back up.

“I might,” he starts, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches Saeran slick his fingers.

“What’s that Hyun?”

“I might,” he inhales sharply, “I might fucking cry, I don’t-”

“It’s fine,” Saeran cuts him off, a soothing hand stroking his thigh.  “You just tell me if you want me to stop ok?”

“That’s not,” he stops for a moment, “it’s not fucked up?”

“Sometimes people cry when they fuck,” Saeran shrugs, “it’s not a big deal.”

“ _ God _ ,” Hyun sighs.

Saeran settles between his thighs, nudging them wider with his elbows as he licks a stripe along the length of Hyun’s cock, one slick finger teasing at his entrance. “Relax,” he whispers as he presses one finger in to the first knuckle.

Hyun whines and Saeran swirls his tongue around the tip of his cock, fucks his finger in and out of his ass, and waits for him to relax. He bobs his head as he works to stretch him, slipping a second finger in and moaning around the dick in his mouth when he feels fingers tighten in his hair.

“Hng,  _ please _ ,” Hyun moans, thigh squeezing around his head.

Saeran stays there for a moment.  Head trapped between soft thighs as the pads of his fingers press against Hyun’s prostate.  His hips buck into Saeran’s mouth and he swallows around the the cock in his throat.  He taps on the thighs as he pulls away.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles when Hyun whines, legs dropping from around his head.  He takes a moment to slick himself with more lube, stroking himself as he trails fingers along Hyun’s soft belly.  Finds that he prefers the way his fingers dimple the soft skin to the hard body he’d admired in his youth.

He presses into him slowly, pressing kisses along his chest and jaw and whispering soft encouragements until he bottoms out.

“Still ok?” Saeran mumbles against Hyun’s jaw.  He drops kisses on his nose, his jaw, his eyelids, his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, breathing through his nose.

“Relax,” Saeran coos, reaching to pull at Hyun’s thighs, urging him to wrap his long legs around Saeran’s narrow waist. Hyun squirms beneath him.  It takes every ounce of willpower he has not to roll his hips. “Just tell me when, I’ll take my time.” Saeran says.

He watches the way Hyun’s eyelid flutter as he presses soft kisses along his jaw.  Saeran wants to be soft, he wants to make this good for him.  His Hyung who’s never been treated kind, who’s been through so much and it’s so familiar to him.  He wants to be soft for this man.

“Just fuck me,” Hyun grunts, eyes dark when they finally open and settle on him. “ _ Saeran _ ,” he says, big hands sliding up his back, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Fucking, please.”

There’s something more there, the way his voice breaks slightly, the way his eyes water at the edges, but Saeran nods.  He sucks Hyun’s bottom lip into his mouth, drags his teeth as he pulls away and takes Hyun’s hips in his hands tugs them up and slaps him on the ass before he pulls back, almost slipping out completely before snapping his hips.

Hyun gasps, pushes back against his thrusts until the room is filled with the sharp sound of flesh on flesh and the hushed curses of the two men.  Hyun doesn’t notice when the tears spill over his eyelids and Saeran doesn’t point it out.  He simply leans forward and kisses the tears away, draws his tongue along the still sharp curve of Hyun’s jaw before sinking his teeth into his throat and sucking.

Hyun whines, his hands having found there way into Saeran’s hair he tugs as his fingers tighten and Saeran moans against his wounded neck. 

“Fuck Pet,” he grunts, “you’re so tight, you feel so hng, so fucking good.”

Hyun whimpers, his back arches pressing their chests together. “I’m close,” he whines into Saeran’s neck, “I’m so c-close,  _ shit _ .”

Saeran reaches between them to palm at Hyun’s cock, “ _ God Hyun _ ,” he groans, “you’re so wet for me.” 

Hyun whines.

“So fucking wet,” he continues, “and so fucking pretty, look at you,” Saeran leans back, wraps his hand around Hyun’s cock and starts to stroke in time with his thrusts.  

“Mmng,” Hyun bites his lip, his eyes wet and pleading.

Saeran thumbs at a purple bruise forming on his shoulder. “So pretty inked in purple and red,” he hums snapping his hips. Hyun whines and Saeran tightens his grip. “You did so well tonight, perfect really.  You’re so good, and you’re going to be so good for me aren’t you?’

“ _ God _ ,” Hyun whimpers, “Shit,  _ please _ ,” he begs.

“ _ Aren’t you _ ?” Saeran repeats, firm.

“Yes!” Hyun cries out, “Fuck,  _ yes,  _ yes,  _ yes,  _ I  _ am _ ,” he babbles as Saeran pumps him, spilling into Saeran’s fist with a sob as he works him through his orgasm.

“Look at me,” Saeran orders him, voice firm but wavering.

He does, training his eyes on the soft face above him as Saeran raises his hand to his mouth, lazily sucking the cum from his fingers.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Hyun whimpers.

“You’re so pretty,” Saeran mumbles as he falls forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Hyun as he continues to fuck into him, chasing his own release. “So fucking pretty Hyun,” he growls into his neck. “God how did I get so lucky?” He grunts, hips stuttering staccato before he finds his rhythm, cursing into Hyun’s neck as he cums, collapsing onto him as he finishes.

He wraps his arms around Saeran, holding him there against him the two of them panting and saited and he buries his face into cotton candy hair hoping Saeran doesn’t notice the tears on his face.  Saeran rubs soothing circles into his arms and they lay there for a long time.

Content and dozing despite the mess, until finally Saeran stands, putting a hand on Hyun’s chest to keep him where he is.  He disappears into the blur of Hyun’s poor vision and is gone for much longer than Hyun would like.  Anxiety creeping up on him, he starts to wonder if this is just another guest room.  

Maybe this is just the room Saeran fucks in.  Maybe that’s all this was.  You could be nice and still only want to fuck he figures and it’s fine.  He’s  _ fine _ with that.  Even if he had the impression that Saeran wanted more than that, he  _ had _ said himself he only wanted what the other man was willing to give.

Saeran is smiling when he pops back into his vision, pink hair tousled, contacts out, he’s wearing a big pink sweater that hangs down to his knees and big round wire frames balanced on his nose.  His eyebrows knit together when he sees Hyun. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he smiles, relieved when Saeran reaches out with a damp washcloth to clean him.

“You sure?” He presses, “You can tell me.”

Hyun shakes his head. “No it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Ok,’ Saeran nods as he finishes, he doesn’t look like he believes him. He tosses the cloth into a hamper and smirks. “Here,” he sets a pair of soft pink pajamas on Hyun’s belly.

“Really?” He asks, eyeing the colour.

Saeran snorts. “What you not gay enough for pink PJs?”

Hyun rolls his eyes and swings his legs over the edge of the bed to pull the pants on.

“You can,” Saeran starts, he worries his lip between his teeth and glances away, “if you want you can sleep here tonight or you can go back to your room.  I have some work I need to do in the music room before I come to bed.”

“Stay here,” Hyun repeats, “with you?”

Saeran nods with a shrug. “If you want.”

Hyun wiggles himself under the blankets.  It had been much too long since he’d woken up next to someone. “Yeah I guess,” he winks from beneath the blankets.

“Idiot,” Saeran snorts pushing himself off the bed.

 


End file.
